


A Shanix for Your Thoughts

by TechnoXenoHolic



Series: Aboard the Prosperity [1]
Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Shockwave, Jaunting Around the Universe, Lockdown wants Shockwave's body and not in a sexy way, Other, Self-Surgery in Chapter 11, post-season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 12:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 29,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8490448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnoXenoHolic/pseuds/TechnoXenoHolic
Summary: Swindle is well-known for being a nightmare to any enforcer of arms distribution laws. He’s traveled everywhere in the galaxy, and he’s either bought or stolen weapons and technology from every sentient race therein. He’s used to transporting volatile, illegal goods; it’s something of a trademark of his.What he’s not used to transporting is people. But when a femme who calls herself Stiletto seeks him out while he’s on Cybertron, he’s too tempted by her offer to say no.Her proposition? Fifty million Shanix simply to transport her off-planet. And there are bonuses if he’s willing to take her further.He plans to take her quite far indeed.But the problem is, Stiletto is being pursued by someone dangerous—and all signs point to that someone being the unnamed Decepticon who recently escaped from the Elite Guard’s most high-security prison. Swindle chooses to run the risk anyway; the reward is too great.When he learns the true story behind Stiletto’s escape from Cybertron, however, he may not be so eager to assist her…





	1. Open for Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> view the cover for this story in all its ridiculously high-definition glory [HERE!](http://i.imgur.com/1Fxael4.png) (image is 2200px by 3000px)

Swindle stepped off his ship and stretched, letting out a pleased hum. “Ah, it _is_ good to be back,” he said with a grin. He looked around the landing yard with a smirk; ships of every kind stretched out to either side of him.

 _Likely all expensive, too,_ Swindle thought. Laughing to himself under his breath, he closed up the hatch of his own ship and stowed the access key in his transwarp storage compartment. _Lucky me, for finding a ship just as nice to steal instead. Hah!_

Swindle whistled cheerfully and began strolling away from his ship.

The planet Cybertron. Admittedly, it really wasn’t Swindle’s favorite planet in the galaxy (there were far too many laws and law-abiding Autobots for his tastes), but it was a damn good one all the same. There was a lot to be said for the numerous seedy, lower-city alleys and the backwater saloons and taverns hidden within them. The mechs in some parts would pay double the market price for some things—and Swindle loved a deal like that more than he loved his own plating.

One of those mechs had contacted Swindle quite recently, in fact. With the prison break a few solar cycles ago tossing the Elite Guard enforcers into a frenzied search for an unspecified Decepticon prisoner who had escaped, it was the perfect time for the lesser criminals to get their own shady businesses underway. Increased security was being moved to the exit points of the planet—the optics still turned to the lower regions, the gangs, and the black marketers weren’t tuned as sharply as they were normally.

It was an opportunity Swindle absolutely relished.

And as he strolled casually through the alleys of Iacon, Swindle couldn’t help his overflowing excitement. The grin on his face refused to go down. He was going to make _so_ much money.

**‡**

Swindle stood at the entrance to an alleyway in the lower west quadrant of Iacon. He checked his internal chronometer and frowned—he was supposed to meet with someone about a weapon sale about now, and there was no sign of his customer.

Until he turned around, that is.

Swindle gasped and put a hand to his spark. “Lockdown!” he cried. “You nearly scared the spark out of me!”

“Yeah?” the bounty hunter said. He walked the rest of the way over to Swindle and smirked. “Good.”

Swindle forced a laugh. “Well, I suppose it would be, assuming I was a target of yours. I hope I never am, of course, but there it is. Anyway!” He clapped his hands together and grinned up at Lockdown. “What can I do for you today? Is it some sort of blaster that you need? Or perhaps a new cloaking device? I have a number of those in stock now.”

Lockdown’s mouth drew into a scowl. “I need something to help me find someone slippery,” he said.

“Ooh, is that so?” Swindle grinned. “Something like what, exactly? I have locator beacons, spark signature trackers, surveillance drones—”

“Back up,” Lockdown said. He looked interested, so Swindle shut up. “What was that about spark signature trackers?”

Swindle’s grin stretched wider. “Only the best that money can buy,” he purred, and he began fishing in his transwarp storage compartment for an example. Lockdown watched closely. “Ah-hah! Here we are!” said the con mech, and he drew out a small handheld device. “This one is one-of-a-kind, so it’s a little expensive, but that’s not important when you consider that it has _great_ range. You can look for one spark out of a whole city with this baby. Granted, it’s not quite as good on organic planets, because the organic matter throws off the detection system—ah, but that only affects its range a little anyway.”

Lockdown hummed thoughtfully. Then he gestured with his hook. “Lemme see that thing.”

Swindle held the device up for Lockdown to see, but he didn’t let go of it, just in case. “Hand-held, easy to operate, and very effective,” he said. “See, you just tune this knob here and turn it on—ah, it isn’t showing anything right _now,_ but that’s just because it hasn’t been programmed with a spark signature to search for yet.”

“But when I do, it’ll show me where it is?” asked Lockdown.

“Sure thing!” Swindle confirmed. “It’ll give you an approximate distance and direction! The closer the signature is, the more accurate, of course—but that’s to be expected.”

“Of course,” Lockdown muttered. “How much is this thing worth?”

“Oh, about fifteen thousand Shanix,” Swindle said casually. Lockdown flashed him a glare, and he gulped and quickly continued. “But I got it at a steal of a price, so for a customer like you—one of my favorites, you know!—I can drop the price a little bit. Only twelve thousand Shanix and it can be yours!”

Lockdown’s optics narrowed slightly, and for just a moment Swindle feared he’d left the price too high still. Lockdown had always been a tricky customer to read. But then the bounty hunter huffed a heavy exhale and reached in a compartment into his plating that he clicked open.

“That’ll do,” he said. He passed Swindle three separate credit chits—two ‡5 — chits and one ‡2 — chit—and he grabbed the spark signature tracker as soon as Swindle’s grip on it loosened. “Thanks.”

“Always a pleasure doing business with you, Lockdown!” said Swindle, putting the chits into his storage compartment.

“Yeah. Sure thing,” the bounty hunter grunted. Then he drew his poncho around himself more tightly, turned on one heel, and strode away down the alleyway.

Swindle watched him go until he turned a corner, then exhaled heavily and slumped his posture. “That was a close one,” he muttered. “But,” he said, and he drew himself back up to his full height again with a smirk, “a good deal all the same!”

The spark signature tracker he’d sold Lockdown was only worth about nine and a half thousand Shanix, after all.

**‡**

Several solar cycles and successful business deal later, Swindle dismissed his last pre-planned customer and leaned back in the corner seat he occupied with a pleased sigh. He lifted his cube to his lips and sipped at it, then let his gaze rove around at the bar he was sitting in. It was a low-class, low-traffic little establishment that most of the Iacon enforcers didn’t know about on the lowest level of the city, and Swindle loved it. It was a great place to do business—well, if you were in the business he was, anyway.

“All in a day’s work,” Swindle murmured to himself. He sipped at his cube again, then looked at it—it was half empty now. He sloshed the energon around in its cube slightly, watching the way the bright glow contrasted with the color of the bar’s dusky lighting. He peered through it and smirked, watching a pretty little red-plated femme stroll past him to the bar counter.

He took another drink. When he looked up again, the red femme was walking over to him with a small, decorated cube of her own.

“Hey there,” she said. “You look lonely. May I join you?”

“I wouldn’t mind some company,” Swindle chuckled. “Have a seat.”

The femme smiled and sat next to Swindle, too close for it to be entirely innocent. He smirked and slung his arm over the back of the seat behind her.

“So, what brings you to this part of the city, hmm?” Swindle asked.

“Oh, you know,” the femme said, and she pressed closer to him. “I heard it had the best clientele.”

“Really now?” Swindle laughed. He grinned and idly swished his energon around in its container, then drank the last of it and got rid of the cube. “Well, I suppose it does, in a way…”

“Excuse me, but would you happen to be Swindle?”

Swindle looked up in surprise at the voice that had interrupted his conversation. A purple-plated femme he’d never seen before stood there, looking down at him with her hands rested loosely against her hips—hips that led down to a pair of _very_ attractive legs, he noticed.

“Yes, actually, I am,” the con mech purred.

“Who are you?” asked the femme already sitting with Swindle. He jerked his gaze back up to the other femme’s face.

She drew her mouth into a tight line. “My name is Stiletto,” she said. Her voice had an oddly low and breathy quality to it—it was almost masculine, in a way. “And I would like to speak with Swindle about a business matter.”

“A business matter?” Swindle echoed. He sat up a little straighter and looked at the femme curled up to him. “I’m afraid we’ll have to continue this another time. Money always comes first,” he said.

The femme growled, slapped Swindle across the face, and got up to stalk off with some sort of insult thrown over her shoulder. Swindle sighed and rubbed his face, then leaned back into his seat again.

“Go ahead and sit down, Stiletto,” he invited, waving a hand at the seat next to him. “Let’s talk about this business of yours. But first—waitress! Another cube of high-grade, please!” He shot Stiletto a smile. “Anything for you?”

Stiletto perched delicately on the corner bench next to Swindle. “No, thank you. I don’t like to drink my energon in public.”

Swindle shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said. A small and rather surly-looking waitress brought a cube of glowing high-grade over and barked a price at him. With a bit of a pinched expression, Swindle handed over exactly enough Shanix to pay for it. Once the waitress left, he took a sip of his energon.

“So?” the mech prompted. He shot a sly look at Stiletto over his cube.

“I need you to transport me off-planet,” said Stiletto.

“Sorry, sweetspark, but I’m not exactly running a transport ship,” Swindle said idly. He took a sip of his high-grade. “Is there anything _else_ I can get you? A cloaking device, perhaps? Or maybe a pulse cannon would do—I hear those are all the rage on some planets these days.”

Stiletto leaned nearer to Swindle and put her hand on his shoulder. He glanced sideways at her and sipped his cube again.

“Swindle,” she said. There was a pleading tone in her voice, but it was faint; she seemed to be trying to hide it. “I need you to help me get off planet. Please, that’s all I want.”

Swindle shrugged—Stiletto’s hand fell from his shoulder. “Then I don’t think I can help you.” Then he had another drink.

Stiletto sat back, narrowed her optics, and gripped the edges of the seat. “I’ll pay you fifty million Shanix to do it.”

Swindle choked on his energon.

Coughing, the con mech set his cube down on the seat next to him and rubbed his throat. He grimaced; that had almost gone down the wrong tube entirely. He had to have heard that wrong. “I’m sorry, sugar-circuits, _what_ was that figure?”

Stiletto’s mouth pressed thin. “If you can get me off Cybertron, I’ll pay you fifty million Shanix,” she repeated. Then she held up a credit chit—the number did, in fact, read a pretty ‡50 — —.

Swindle gave a low whistle and looked Stiletto over. There were no tells—not a tremble, not a fidget, not even a shift in her perfect posture. Either this femme was a perfect liar or she was telling him the truth. And either way…

“Well, for that much money…” Swindle purred, “I might make an _exception.”_

Stiletto smiled slightly and tucked the chit away between the layers of her chestplating somewhere. “Then do we have a deal?”

“We do indeed.” Swindle grinned widely. He lifted his cube and drank the last of his high-grade, then crushed it in his hand to disperse the suspensor field. “When are you looking to leave?”

“Preferably as soon as possible,” Stiletto replied. She stood up from her seat.

Swindle dragged his gaze up and down Stiletto’s legs before he leisurely stood up as well. He couldn’t help noticing she was slightly taller than he was while standing—it was unusual, but not unattractive. “Shall I show you to my ship, then?” he purred.

“If you wouldn’t mind.” Stiletto’s lips turned up at the corners in a little smirk.

Smirking quite widely himself, Swindle rested his hand against Stiletto’s back and guided her out of the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a numerically-written Shanix (‡) amount, a dash (—) is a shorthand that represents three zeroes.


	2. A Bargain Struck

Swindle guided Stiletto onto his ship with a sweeping gesture. “And here she is!” he declared. “The _Prosperity._ I got this baby about a stellar cycle ago. Make yourself at home, gorgeous!”

Stiletto hummed thoughtfully and strolled aboard, tracing her fingertips along the nearest wall and then rubbing them together. She cast her glance around the interior of the ship without any change in expression.

“So?” Swindle prompted. “What do you think?”

“What do you want to hear?” Stiletto replied. She walked along the central hallway and to the bridge.

Swindle blinked and followed her at a light jog. “I just want to hear whether you like it or not,” he huffed.

“I’m not one for ornamentation.” Stiletto turned to face Swindle in the doorway to the bridge, and he abruptly halted so he wouldn’t run into her. “It does seem functional enough, however. I have no complaints.”

Swindle furrowed his optic ridges, but then sighed and shrugged. “Well, I guess I’ll take it,” he said. “Go ahead and have a look at the bridge if you like. I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Thank you,” said Stiletto. She breezed past Swindle and onto the bridge. He huffed and turned to the nearest storage room.

After he offloaded a few things he had bought on Cybertron—things that he still needed to have a look at and put prices on—Swindle meandered on up to the bridge. Stiletto was seated primly in the copilot seat; Swindle chuckled and sat in the pilot seat.

“Comfortable?” he joked.

“Let’s just get off-planet,” Stiletto said.

Swindle shrugged and started up the ship’s engines. “Whatever you say, sweetspark,” he said, and he set his hands on the controls.

The _Prosperity_ rose slowly into the air. Swindle glanced to the side—Stiletto was staring impassively out the front viewscreen. The con mech rolled his optics and turned his attention back to the ship’s controls, and with a few button presses, the _Prosperity_ was shooting upwards towards the edge of the atmosphere.

“So tell me, Stiletto,” Swindle said, trying to make some sort of idle conversation. “Why do you need to get off of Cybertron so badly, hm?”

Stiletto looked at him out of the corner of her optic. She stayed silent for a moment, but then spoke up. “There’s someone after me,” she said simply.

“What?” Swindle exclaimed. “Who?”

“Someone I can’t handle on my own.” Stiletto crossed her arms. “He shouldn’t be any trouble to you.”

Swindle frowned suspiciously. But then he simply rolled his optics and said, “If you say so.”

The _Prosperity_ pushed steadily upwards until it broke through Cybertron’s upper atmosphere. Swindle pressed an adjustment button, and the ship lurched slightly and moved forwards just a little faster than before. “Here we are,” he said pointedly. “We’re definitely off Cybertron now.”

Stiletto frowned. “I’m not paying you until you get me past the outer guard circle,” she said stiffly.

“All right, then,” Swindle replied. “Outer guard circle it is!”

Stiletto nodded.

Swindle switched on the ship’s accelerator. The _Prosperity_ leapt forward, engines humming, and soared straight past the inner guard circle.

A hailing ping came through immediately. «Do you have clearance to be flying that ship off Cybertron?» a young guard demanded. He scowled at Swindle suspiciously from the screen. From the angle he was at, he wouldn’t be able to see Stiletto, but she shifted uncomfortably anyway.

“Please, this is a merchant ship!” Swindle laughed, smirking. “I don’t need a permit. Remember that new law a few stellar cycles back?”

The young guard looked uncertain. But then another guard, this one older and more seasoned, broke into the communication. «Swindle, turn your ship around. You’re under arrest for weapons and technologies trafficking!” she snapped.

“Sorry, darling, no can do,” Swindle purred. “I’m being paid for this one!” He pressed the button to end the communication, then angled the ship so it would pass clean through a weak spot in the outer guard circle’s ranks. “So long, lawmechs!” he chuckled. He flew the ship manually for a few cycles more, then flicked on the autopilot and lounged back into his seat with a satisfied grin.

Stiletto sighed softly. “Here you are, then.”

Swindle blinked, then turned his helm. Stiletto was holding out the ‡50 — — credit chit she’d shown to him in the bar. He grinned, plucked it from her fingers, kissed it, and dropped it into his transwarp storage compartment. “Sweet, sweet Shanix,” he said smugly. He tucked his hands together behind his helm and smirked at Stiletto. “Now, where should I drop you off?”

Stiletto looked thoughtful. She carefully settled herself back into her own seat. “I have information,” she said. “If you keep me with you, I can tell you where the Elite Guard keeps certain sensitive materials.”

Swindle blinked. “Such as?”

Stiletto smiled slyly. “Will you let me stay aboard?”

“That depends on what you have to offer me,” the con mech replied. “Give me something to work with, here!”

“I know where the Elite Guard keeps the things that never existed,” Stiletto said. She looked forward. “Their secret weapons prototypes, the confiscated blackmail materials, and the experimental technologies that never got off the ground. Everything.”

Swindle’s optics widened. “Primus below, how do you even know any of that?” he exclaimed.

“I worked as a special agent for a very long time,” she said, smiling knowingly. “Only the absolute minimum number of people even knew I was there.”

“Sparks’ sakes,” Swindle breathed. “And you’re going to give that information to _me,_ just to ferry you around the galaxy for a while? Count me _in!”_

**‡**

Swindle landed the _Prosperity_ carefully on the surface of the planet Elpasos. “You know, I still don’t see what the Elite Guard could possibly be keeping on a planet like this,” he said. “It’s part of the Vestial Imperium. You do know that, right?”

“Of course,” Stiletto replied. “But this is the planet I keep my information sources on. I don’t walk around with that kind of knowledge sitting in my processor. Would you?”

“No,” Swindle sighed. “I suppose not.”

Stiletto stood up and gave Swindle a look. “Something tells me you’ll want to visit the underground market here before leaving, correct?”

“Definitely,” said Swindle. He stood as well. “Why not? It’s a good market.”

“True enough,” Stiletto said. “It might be best not to go there with any sensitive information on my person, however. It wouldn’t be wise.”

Swindle opened the ship’s hatch, and the pair stepped outside. “So we head to the market first, then go to get your information before we leave?” he suggested.

“Certainly.” Stiletto nodded once.

Swindle nodded back at her. He locked up his ship, then turned back around.

Stiletto was already gone.

He blinked in surprise, but sighed, shrugged, and walked in the other direction. Never mind, then—if Stiletto wanted to play ninjabot, let her. He wasn’t about to waste his time looking for her if she could vanish that quickly.

No need to see where she kept her information when he was going to be hearing it from her later anyway.

**‡**

The Elpasos underground market was crawling with seedy businessmechs of seemingly all cybernetic races. Every once in a while the odd Cybertronian popped up among the crowds, but the mechs here were mostly other sorts. Despite that, Swindle made himself right at home with an almost native ease.

“How about you, then?” he asked a passing Szorian. “You look like you could use a new particle cannon! What do you say?”

“I’ll trade you for a Ghennix laser pistol,” the Szorian chuckled.

Swindle gaped. “Genuine Ghennix weaponry?” he cried. “But—but Ghennix was destroyed stellar cycles ago! Let me see that!”

The Szorian smirked. “Let me see that particle cannon first.”

Swindle eagerly obliged. A breem or so later, both he and the Szorian went their separate ways, each with new weaponry to their names. “Primus, do I ever love this planet,” Swindle muttered, a triumphant smirk on his face.

The con mech picked up and strolled down the market street, humming softly to himself. It was about time that he head back to the ship to offload. He’d been out here for a good while already, after all.

When he traipsed on up to his ship, however, Swindle found Stiletto already standing there, waiting for him. She was leaning against one of the ship’s support strut legs with one pede crossed over the other, reading something on a brightly-glowing datapad.

“Back already?” she asked, and she looked up at him with a neutral expression.

“I could ask you the same thing,” said Swindle. He couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. “I guess that didn’t take you as long as I was expecting it to.”

“No,” Stiletto said. She turned off her datapad and tucked it under her arm. “I thought it best to move swiftly in case a quick exit became necessary.”

Swindle unlocked the _Prosperity’s_ entrance hatch and watched it lower. “So you left on your own without warning?” he huffed. “Why would we need to be _that_ quick about it?”

“I thought there might be a possibility of you running across a less than amiable customer,” said Stiletto.

The pair of Cybertronians walked up into the ship. Swindle shrugged. “I suppose,” he said, “but I _am_ armed. I think I could handle something like that without too much difficulty.”

“Perhaps,” Stiletto mused. “But regardless, I’m not comfortable with anyone else knowing where exactly I keep my important data.”

“I see.” Swindle decided to just let it go—if he pressed the issue, Stiletto might not tell him what he wanted to know from her. He closed the ship’s hatch again, and the two made their way towards the bridge. “I guess I’ll have to clear out somewhere for you to stay now that you’re sticking around, hm?” he said. “A quarters of some sort.“

“That would be greatly appreciated.” Stiletto stopped walking. “Perhaps before liftoff?”

“No,” Swindle said. He continued onto the bridge, speaking over his shoulder. “I have an exact procedure for leaving the planet. Taking off comes _before_ I organize my stock—and I’ll have to do that to make space for you.”

“I see,” Stiletto murmured. “That does seem logical…”

**‡**

Once the _Prosperity_ was off the ground and into Elpasos’ orbit, Swindle and Stiletto began working together on clearing out one of the ship’s two smaller storage holds (the other one was already serving as Swindle’s quarters). It turned out that Stiletto was stronger than she looked, so to speed things up Swindle had her carry boxes of weaponry while he organized and sorted them.

Eventually, it came time for Swindle to offload some things from his transwarp storage compartment. He was pulling out the Ghennix laser pistol as Stiletto came in with the last box from the other room.

“I hope you’re aware that possessing Ghennix technology is illegal in most of the galaxy,” said Stiletto.

Swindle shrugged. “I _am_ an illegal arms dealer,” he said, and he put the pistol on a shelf with others like it from different planets. “What can I say?”

Stiletto smiled. “Just don’t sell it. I might buy it from you myself later.”

Swindle blinked, but then grinned. “Well, now! That isn’t what I expected out of an ex-Elite Guard femme!”

“It has something to do with my circumstances of retirement,” she explained, and she heaved the box she was carrying up on top of another one. “But I can’t give you any more detail than that.”

“Have it your way,” Swindle said, with a shrug and a smile. He pulled a heavy-duty neutron rifle that he got for half the price it should have been from some shady-looking Velocitronian out of his storage compartment next, then put it down and turned to Stiletto. “Now, what are you going to need in those quarters of yours?”


	3. Payday

“So, Stiletto, what’s our next target, hmm?”

“Opulus,” said Stiletto. She was seated in the _Prosperity’s_ copilot seat once more, watching as Swindle manipulated the controls of the ship to fly it away from Elpasos.

“Opulus?” Swindle echoed. He looked at Stiletto suspiciously. “But it’s crawling with Elite Guard enforcers. Are you trying to get me arrested and thrown in the Opulus prison complex?”

“Of course not. That would be a waste,” Stiletto replied. She pulled open a file on her datapad and scrolled a fair ways down. “Opulus’ prison facility _does_ hold a good chunk of the Decepticon Justice Division, however, and I know where their weapons are stored. It’s someplace off-site of the prison facility, not as well-guarded, so you should almost be able to walk right in and take your pick.”

 _“Now_ you’re speaking my language!” Swindle laughed. “Opulus it will be!”

Stiletto smiled faintly. “I thought you might see it that way.”

**‡**

Once they landed on Opulus, Stiletto showed Swindle a map of the way to the prison complex’s off-site weapons storage and gave him instructions on how to get in and out of the facility. He hung on her every word, making sure he absorbed every bit of the information that he could.

“This alley goes nearly the whole way from here to there,” she said, tracing her finger along the route. “Then you turn left and go south until you reach the ironworks. As long as you can stomach it, you can cross through this old, unused sewer maintenance line here and come out nearly on top of the building. If you can’t, there’s another route along this other street, here, but it’s patrolled sometimes, so be careful.

“What you’ll most need to be sure you stay away from is this street corner here, at the front of the building—you have to go in through the back. Since it’s disguised as a convenience store, it’s faster to go through that way anyway. In through the back and down the nearest lift to the basement floor will get you where you need to be.

“Take only as much as you can carry in your storage compartment and the palms of your hands. If you’re seen carrying some large and unwieldy weapon—by anyone at all—the enforcers will be on you in moments. You won’t be able to escape them.”

Stiletto rebooted her vocalizer. “And keep far away from the prison complex. The guards do regular patrols, and there’s no guarantee they won’t recognize you.”

Swindle stared at the map for a moment longer, then looked up at Stiletto. “I must say, this is impressive,” he admitted. “You must have been pretty high up to know all this.”

“I can’t talk about that,” Stiletto said. “Just don’t be caught and don’t get yourself injured.”

“Wait a moment,” Swindle said suspiciously. “Aren’t you coming with me on this?”

“I can’t,” said Stiletto. “Femmes are an incredibly rare sight on Opulus. I would put a lot of public notice on you if I were there.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Swindle laughed. “What are you going to do, then?”

“I’ll take a walk,” said Stiletto. “I’ll see if I can catch some attention to the opposite side of the street from the alley entrance you’ll need to take. I might need to go back to the ship before you, though, if the mechs here get…”

“I understand completely,” said Swindle. Then he popped open his storage compartment and fished out the _Prosperity’s_ access key. “Here,” he said, and he passed it to Stiletto. “This will get you back onto the ship. Make sure you _are_ back before I am, though, because I can get on without it and I might need to take off immediately when I get back. You’d be stuck down here until I can land again and come find you—if I even can.”

“All right. Thank you,” Stiletto said. “I’ll be sure I am back by then. It shouldn’t be too hard.”

**‡**

As Swindle slipped in the back door of the storage facility, he mentally congratulated himself on not having to go through that sewer maintenance line after all. _Let’s hope I don’t have to do that when I head back,_ he thought bitterly. It wasn’t something he was eager to try.

The con mech put it out of his processor and searched for the lift that would bring him down to the basement level. He spotted it quickly and made his way down without issue. Then when the lift doors opened, he gaped in amazement.

Shelves lined the walls, shelves filled with all sorts of unique and customized weaponry. There were things even Swindle couldn’t put a name to right away.

“Come to papa,” he breathed, and he leapt down the small set of stairs into the main storage area.

He soon saw that every item was tagged with its function and original owner, so Swindle made sure he grabbed the things of the highest value first. A high-power plasma shotgun here, a sonic disruptor here, another thing called a ‘devastator’ over there—there were so many different things that Swindle could barely believe this place existed. How many inmates of the Opulus prison complex had been high-ranking Decepticons during the war? How many were wanted mercenaries? It seemed like whatever the answer was for either question, it seemed it had to fall under the category of _‘a whole slagging lot’_ for them both.

Suddenly, a blaring siren jerked Swindle out of his revelry. He panicked, thinking he must have somehow been caught.

«Attention!» shouted some mech over the loudspeaker. «There has been a prison break at the Opulus prison complex. Please exit the building for your own safety. Repeat, please exit the building for your own safety. Retreat to the safety of your homes and please allow the Elite Guard to handle the situation!»

“A prison break?” Swindle exclaimed. He hesitated, then grabbed all the nearest weapons he could, stashed them into his storage compartment, and booked it. He grabbed another couple interesting things off the shelves on his way past, hastily stuffing them into his storage compartment as well. Then he scrambled up the stairs and up the lift.

Swindle exited the building, looked around quickly, and cursed under his breath. There were enforcers nearby. They hadn’t seen him yet, though, it seemed, so he transformed and took off.

The way he’d come in was blocked off now, so Swindle revved his engine and headed for the old sewer maintenance line Stiletto had mentioned. He drove right in, shuddering in disgust so that his plating rattled against his transformation seams.

“Ugh,” he groaned. “It still smells.”

When he reached the end of the line, he transformed again and slipped out into the alley. He jogged up to the main alley he’d come down, stepped out among the sparse crowd of fleeing Opulus residents, and tuned his comm in to the emergency broadcast signal.

«—seems the previously escaped prisoner from Cybertron was seen heading the breakout. Don’t trust— _ack!»_

The signal went dead. Several mechs started screaming in terror—“Don’t trust _what?_ What did they mean about another escaped prisoner?”

Swindle scoffed and turned his comm off. He pushed past a slower mech with a quick, sarcastic apology and started to run.

In another breem and a half or so, Swindle rounded the corner out of the alley and made it to the landing yard where he had parked the _Prosperity._ Stiletto had just finished opening the hatch as he ran up.

“Go, go, go!” Swindle snapped. He grabbed Stiletto by the wrist and dragged her onto the ship—she made a surprised sound, but followed quickly.

“What’s the matter? Did one of the enforcers see you?” she gasped.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Swindle growled. He closed the hatch of the ship and jogged up to the bridge. “Didn’t you hear the emergency announcement‽”

“What emergency announcement?” Stiletto walked quickly behind Swindle. She sat in her seat just as he hit the button to get the ship into the air, then flung himself into his seat as well.

“Prison break,” Swindle explained. “There was a prison break while I was in the middle of looting the weapons storage. The place is crawling with enforcers now.” He pushed the _Prosperity’s_ accelerator to full throttle, and it shot for the sky, pushing them both back into their seats. “I tuned my comm in to the emergency frequency, and they said something about the prisoner who escaped from Cybertron being seen leading this escape, too.”

“Oh no,” Stiletto breathed.

“What?” Swindle scoffed. “We’re getting out of here. It doesn’t matter.”

Stiletto grimaced slightly. “But…”

“But _what?”_

“If he was seen here… Swindle, I told you I had someone following me. I think he knows where I am.”

**‡**

“So let me get this straight,” said Swindle. The _Prosperity_ was on autopilot now, heading for Alpha IX. “You’re being followed across the galaxy by none other than _Shockwave?”_

“It seems that way,” Stiletto said thickly. “I had hoped I would be able to get away from him—I don’t know how he ended up on the same planet as us.”

“Scrap,” Swindle muttered. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, scowling out at the stars visible out the ship’s forward viewport.

“Maybe it was a coincidence,” Stiletto said.

“Maybe,” Swindle agreed. “If he was there to break out those prisoners… Which is what it sure _seems_ like he was there to do, anyway… Maybe he never even realized you were there as well.”

“I hope so.” Stiletto nodded once. “That has to be it, though.”

“Even still, maybe you should be a little more careful from now on,” said Swindle. “No more walkabouts for you. At least not on planets like _that.”_

“Yes, that would make the most sense,” Stiletto sighed. “But I don’t really enjoy being cooped up on a ship all the time…”

Swindle frowned. “All right, here’s the deal,” he said. “You stay on the ship while we’re on Alpha IX, just to be safe. I’ll let you come with me— _with me,_ not out on your own!—on the next planet. Once it seems like we’ve lost Shockwave, _then_ you can do whatever you like while I’m out doing my business. Capisce?”

Stiletto nodded slowly. “All right,” she said. “It is better to be safe…”

“Don’t sound so down,” Swindle said, trying to be comforting. “I’m very good at avoiding the authorities—Shockwave can’t be much different, can he? After all, wasn’t he masquerading as one of them for a while—as that ‘Longarm Prime’ fellow? I’d say that puts him at a bit of a disadvantage if he wants to catch _me.”_

Stiletto seemed to tense a little, but then she relaxed again. “Actually,” she said, “that does seem reasonable.”

“I thought so,” Swindle said smugly. “You’ll be safe if you stick with me, gorgeous. I promise. This information you’ve got for me is way too valuable to just let you get offlined by some creep that’s after you.”

“Well, I’m glad you think so,” Stiletto said.

Swindle smirked. “Now, as far as that information goes…”

“You want to know about Alpha IX now?” Stiletto asked.

“Of course,” said Swindle. “Are you going to tell me?”

“I don’t see why not,” Stiletto replied. Then she began to outline what it was that made Alpha IX such an excellent place for Swindle to be visiting next.


	4. It Pays to Shop Around

When Swindle returned to his ship after his stint on Alpha IX, Stiletto seemed incredibly eager to get off the planet. He was a little surprised by the intensity of it—she had been generally sedate up until now, but she insisted most emphatically that they get moving. He didn’t have any reason to do otherwise, so they took off and headed towards the next planet on Stiletto’s list: Elba.

On Elba, Swindle did a lot of his business in the clubs and bars of the lower cities of several regions. Stiletto pointed him to a few areas where the Elite Guard stored their blackmailing materials, and she tagged along with him to go and fetch them. But for the most part, they flitted around the edges of the night market scene, Swindle trading goods (or not) with other mechs, and Stiletto trading conversation with mechs and femmes alike.

Several of them seemed familiar to Swindle, but he had met so many people in his life as a salesmech that he shrugged it off. It wasn’t important to him who Stiletto decided to talk with to pass the time in bars.

After they finished with Elba, Swindle flew the _Prosperity_ to Gigantion. On the way there, Stiletto asked him to show her how to fly the ship—she said it might be useful, if someone needed to take manual control for something while Swindle was in one of the storage holds. He agreed to teach her.

Stiletto turned out to be a fast learner. Swindle let her fly them the rest of the way to Gigantion, where he showed her how to land it.

They made two stops on Gigantion; the Elite Guard outpost, and of course, the local trade hub. They had to fly between those places because of the sheer size of the planet. It wasn’t a long or difficult trip, so Swindle let Stiletto control the ship for it. She seemed glad to have something to do.

Swindle took the opportunity to have a quick stasis nap.

The Gigantion trade hub didn’t have very much available to buy—at least, nothing that Swindle wanted—so he sold more there than he bought. Stiletto stuck close to him, for the most part, but every once in a while she would wander off to a vendor’s stand to look at their wares and have a quick chat. She never came back with anything, so it seemed to Swindle that she wasn’t ultimately impressed with what they were offering either.

When they left Gigantion for Vespa II, Stiletto holed herself up in her quarters with her datapad after they had taken off. Swindle realized he’d gotten awfully comfortable with having her around—he wasn’t even worried that she would get up to anything while he was flying the _Prosperity._

As strange as it still was to have someone else on board—and as blasé as she acted—it was nice having her company.

**‡**

Halfway along the long journey to Vespa II, Stiletto joined Swindle on the bridge of the _Prosperity._

“What are you watching?” she asked.

“Cybertron Alliance News,” Swindle replied, idly waving one hand at the screen. “I like to keep up with it sometimes. It’s good to know what’s going on around the galaxy—it helps me avoid the enforcers.”

“Understandable,” Stiletto replied. “It’s a lot of nonsense though, isn’t it?”

“It used to be,” Swindle agreed. “But since the second end of the war, it’s gotten a lot better about reporting what’s actually going on.”

“I see,” Stiletto said. “So what _is_ going on lately?”

“Nothing much, quite honestly,” Swindle replied. “No one has seen any sign of Shockwave since he was seen on Opulus—and they’ve actually admitted that he’s the one who got out on Cybertron. There’s been a lot of bounty hunter activity, too. Oh, and the Elite Guard is hunting for the escaped DJD, but there’s no sign of them, either.”

“Shockwave has probably helped them hide somewhere,” Stiletto mused.

“Probably,” Swindle agreed. “Oh, hey—is that Blurr?”

“Blurr?” Stiletto exclaimed. She quickly reined in her reaction, though, and said simply, “But I heard he had been offlined.”

“So did I,” said Swindle.

But on the screen, a thin, blue mech that was obviously a reconstructed Blurr was composing himself.

«Agent Blurr,» said the mech interviewing him. «What’s your take on the Shockwave situation?»

Blurr flinched. He rebooted his vocalizer and glanced aside—likely at one of the cameras—before he returned his optics to the interviewer.

«I just hope they bring him in quickly,» Blurr rattled off. The broadcast actually subtitled his speech. «It’s not safe to have a mech like that out there roaming the galaxy, believe me. I know from personal experience that Shock—er—the escaped prisoner is incredibly dangerous.»

«Well,» said the interviewer. «Do you know how people might be able to identify him to keep away from him?»

Swindle glanced over at Stiletto. Her optics were fixed on the screen and her whole frame was tense.

“Hey, you know—”

“Hush,” she interrupted. Swindle blinked, but shut up.

«I don’t know if there is any way,» Blurr was saying. He looked scared—he kept looking all around the room like he thought Shockwave might be there somewhere. «All I know is he’s a shifter or something because he can change his whole frame around, even how tall or large he is. You can’t trust anyone anymore with him on the loose.»

«Well, I’m sure someone will find him and bring him in soon, Blurr,» the interviewer soothed. Then the camera view shifted and the interviewer looked directly at it. «More on this story after a word about the latest accident in the Sonic Canyons.»

Stiletto huffed a heavy sigh and leaned back in her seat. “No real useful information,” she muttered.

“No kidding,” Swindle agreed. “What was that about him being a shifter, though?”

Stiletto frowned. “It must be how he disguised himself as Longarm Prime,” she said. “It would make it quite difficult for the Elite Guard to find him.”

“Even being a shifter can’t protect him forever,” Swindle chuckled. “Don’t you worry, Stiletto—he was found out once. He’ll be found out again.”

Stiletto said nothing, only hummed thoughtfully. Swindle assumed that meant the conversation was over, so he went quiet and looked out at the stars passing them by.

**‡**

Despite having been ‘liberated’ during the Autobot planet-hopping campaign, Vespa II was still a veritable hotbed of Decepticon activity. It was a refreshing change after so many Autobot-friendly planets, as far as Swindle was concerned.

“Ahh,” he sighed looking around with a satisfied smile on his face as he strolled out of the _Prosperity._ “It’s nice to be back somewhere a little less restrictive!”

“I suppose it must be, for a mech of your persuasion,” Stiletto commented.

“Well, how about you?” Swindle asked. “Does this planet do anything special for you?”

“I have memories here,” Stiletto replied. “So in a way… Yes.”

Swindle laughed. “Well, go ahead and do your thing,” he said. “The merchants here don’t take kindly to Autobots, so you and your pretty blue optics are going to have to occupy yourselves somewhere else for a while. Comm me if you have any trouble.”

Stiletto smiled. “I’ll do that,” she said. “Shall I meet you here when we’re both done?”

“That sounds like the plan to go with,” Swindle laughed, and he waved her off. “Go on, then!”

Stiletto nodded and turned to walk away. Swindle watched her go for a moment—how could he not, with a view like _that?_ —then chuckled to himself, transformed, and drove the other way. He headed straight for the inner center of the planet’s capital city. There were a number of things he knew could be purchased there—things like cloaking devices for whole ships. He knew Lockdown had one on the Death’s Head, and he’d been wanting one for the _Prosperity_ for a while now.

**‡**

Stiletto strode confidently down the street, keeping her optics peeled. Some mech whistled at her, but she tuned him out and kept walking. She was looking out for a certain sign she knew she’d find on the door of one of the bars she was passing.

The purple-plated femme spotted the sign she was looking for after a moment, then ducked into the bar in question.

Glancing furtively around herself, Stiletto walked up to the front of the bar. She sat, waved the bartender away when he offered her a cube, and turned in her seat to observe the other patrons of the bar.

Stiletto waited for nearly a megacycle until she saw someone she recognized. When she did see them enter the bar, though, she got up and walked over to them immediately.

“Oil Slick,” she said. “And Scalpel as well, I see. May I speak with you both?”

**‡**

Swindle whistled cheerfully to himself as he made his way back to the _Prosperity._ He had scored a number of good deals, including a good price on the cloaking device he had wanted. It would be a lot of help if he ever failed to shake the Elite Guard off his tailpipe the traditional way.

The con mech arrived at the ship and glanced around. He didn’t see Stiletto anywhere. Swindle shrugged, then opened the ship’s hatch and climbed aboard.

“Stiletto?” the con mech called. He waited for a response, but there was none.

Frowning, Swindle broke his usual rule and went to offload his new purchases _without_ first taking off.

Around fifteen cycles later, Swindle finished putting away his new items and stocking his transwarp storage compartment back up with the necessities. He leaned back out of the storage room, but Stiletto still didn’t seem to be back yet.

“That’s odd,” Swindle muttered to himself. He stepped back out of the ship and looked around—and just on the outer reaches of what he could see, he spotted her walking back over. So he stood there and waited for her.

Once she was near enough to be easily heard, Stiletto called out. “Have you been back long?”

“Long enough to notice,” Swindle replied. “Having fun, were we?”

Stiletto huffed and wiped a smudge off her hip plating. “That would depend on your definition of ‘fun’.”

Swindle smirked. “Uh huh,” he said. “Well, I won’t judge. It was just odd to be back before you.”

“I thought you weren’t running a transport ship,” Stiletto retorted, and she walked past Swindle and onto the ship in question. “Shouldn’t you be more unused to having a passenger?”

“Well, that’s a funny story,” Swindle chuckled. He followed Stiletto onto the ship and shut the hatch. “I’ve gotten used to having you around. You’re not bad company.”

“Most of the mechs I know would disagree, I’m sure,” said Stiletto.

“Then I guess they must not have the best taste,” said Swindle.

“To each his own,” the femme murmured. She stopped at the door to her quarters. “Whenever you want to begin flying next, I suggest Menonia.”

Swindle blinked, then grinned. “Hey, I have a favorite customer on Menonia!” he said. “I’ve gotten some good things there. I’ll take you up on that suggestion!”

Stiletto smiled slightly and opened the door to her quarters. Her smiles never seemed to reach her optics, but Swindle had only started noticing it recently. “Good night, Swindle.” She turned, stepped through the doorway, and shut it behind her.

“Have a good recharge, Stiletto,” Swindle called. Then he shook his helm and sighed. “That femme is going to be the death of me,” he muttered.

The con mech made his way to the bridge and started the ship’s engines. It wasn’t wise to recharge while the ship was still on the ground, he’d found. He’d had things stolen from him when he did that.

You just couldn’t trust anyone anymore these days.


	5. Counterfeit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't lie, this chapter exactly is the reason this entire story ended up written at all.

“So, this Carzap fellow,” Stiletto said. “You mentioned that he was a favorite customer of yours?”

Swindle chuckled and ushered Stiletto through the door of the warehouse they were to meet his customer in. “Yes,” he said. “Well, as much as a mech can _be_ a favorite customer when I ultimately prefer whichever mech last overpaid me!”

“I see.” Stiletto looked around suspiciously. The warehouse was stocked with energon cubes piled up in many faintly-translucent storage containers. “And why are we meeting him here?”

“Because it’s out of the way,” Swindle explained. “The enforcers on Menonia are particularly good at finding and interrupting my business deals, you know. Now, come on—he’ll be inside.”

Stiletto narrowed her optics and followed Swindle deeper into the warehouse. Something about this setup felt wrong to her, but she couldn’t put a finger on it. She stayed quiet, but also remained watchful.

After a short while, Swindle rounded the corner of a block of storage containers and grinned. “Carzap!” he cried. “Good to see you! I hear you have something good for me this time, eh?”

“That I do,” the mech named Carzap confirmed.

Stiletto stepped into view behind Swindle, off to one side, and she had a look at Carzap—he was dominantly white-plated, a little round of faceplate and frame, but otherwise unremarkable.

He narrowed his optics immediately, though. “Who’s the femme, Swindle?”

“Just a friend of mine,” Swindle said casually. “I hope you don’t mind if she observes—Menonia isn’t the safest of places for a femme to wander alone, you know. So she stays with me.”

“Hmph. I guess it’s fine,” Carzap said. “You two wait here. I’ll go get that plasma cannon I mentioned—it’s faster if I go myself.”

“Take your time,” said Swindle. He smiled broadly and watched Carzap disappear among the blocks of storage containers.

They waited in silence for a while. Swindle hummed a soft tune for a moment, but then he went quiet again.

After another moment Stiletto muttered, “I feel as though this meeting will not go entirely to plan.”

“What?” Swindle blinked and turned to look at her. “Nonsense. I’m just going to buy a plasma cannon from Carzap and we’re going to leave. Unless we can’t agree on a price, it can’t possibly go wrong.”

An echoing slam sounded around the perimeter of the warehouse.

“What the—‽” Swindle yelped.

“Blast doors,” Stiletto said sharply. “It’s just gone wrong.”

There was a crackle of static and Carzap’s voice echoed out from the loudspeaker. «You’ve played your name against me for the last time, Swindle,» he said. And then a series of explosions sounded around the warehouse—one nearby knocked Swindle and Stiletto both off their pedes.

“Frag it all!” Swindle gasped.

Stiletto hastily shoved him off of her and got to her pedes. “Where did Carzap go?” she demanded, dragging Swindle upright as well.

“I have no idea, but when I find him…” Swindle growled. He pulled open his transwarp storage compartment, but when he tried to reach inside it his hand hit a barrier of solid energy. “Ow! What in sparks’ sakes?”

“The radiation from the energon fire must be interfering with your storage compartment’s transwarp frequency,” Stiletto said.

Swindle goggled at her. “What? How do you know that’s what happened?”

“It’s the only logical assumption,” Stiletto said. “But never mind that now—we need to make a hasty exit as soon as possible.”

Swindle quickly nodded. “Agreed.”

The pair started to run. The headed back towards the entrance they’d come in through—but Carzap stepped out in front of them suddenly, the plasma cannon he’d mentioned aimed right at the both of them.

Swindle screeched to a stop. Stiletto crashed into him from behind.

“A darn shame you had to choose this time to bring along your pretty friend, Swindle,” Carzap said grimly. “I didn’t want to get anyone else involved in this. But I guess she’ll just have to watch as I blast your sparkchamber open and leave you to vanish in this energon fire. Heh, maybe I’ll put her to my _own_ use after that, then leave her to offline, too!”

“You will do none of those things.”

Swindle abruptly snapped out of gaping in horror at Carzap. He blinked in surprise at the voice and looked to his right. Stiletto had just come up beside him—she was the one who had spoken, but that voice hadn’t been hers—and she strode purposefully past him. Oddly, she seemed to be…

Swindle’s optics went wide and he let loose a curse. Stiletto was growing—in only two long, leisurely strides she’d reached a height that put Swindle at chest height with her.

And then her frame shifted.

The treads on Stiletto’s back moved to her shoulders. Her hips slimmed, her plating twisted and moved, and her helm ducked out of sight for just a moment. When it came back up, two long, twin sensory antennae projected upwards from the sides.

Swindle gaped in dismay. His mouth moved, but the only sound he could manage was a weak whimpering noise.

Carzap seemed just as stunned and horrified. _“Shockwave?”_ he gasped.

“Obviously,” said Shockwave.

Suddenly it made sense that Stiletto had spoken in another voice.

“Slag!” Carzap gasped. He moved to aim the plasma cannon he carried up at the now much larger Decepticon, but Shockwave easily plucked it from his grip with one clawed hand.

“I will not be some plaything to a dead mech’s fantasies of power and revenge,” Shockwave said flatly. Carzap’s optics widened, and he backed away. Shockwave tossed the cannon to Swindle.

Swindle squawked, floundered, and just managed to catch the cannon safely. When he looked up again, Shockwave had grabbed Carzap by the throat and lifted him off the ground so that his pedes kicked in the air.

“Furthermore, I will not allow Swindle to perish here so easily. He is far too useful to me to allow an insignificant glitch such as yourself to dispense with him. Your petty revenge is by far less important than my mission.”

Carzap choked and fumbled with something in his hands. Another crate of energon cubes exploded nearby. It knocked Swindle off his footing with a yelp, but Shockwave remained unmoved.

“Your insufferable detonations will not help you,” the cycloptic mech said frigidly. He grabbed Carzap’s hand and the device within it, then crushed it in his grip. The merchant screamed breathlessly and tried to pull his hand away. Shockwave only let go when he had completely crushed the mech’s hand and device into useless, crumpled metal—most of which tumbled to the warehouse floor.

Carzap whined, coughed, and tried to kick Shockwave. He beat at the larger mech’s forearm with his good hand, but it was futile. Shockwave merely scoffed at the display.

“Pitiful,” Shockwave muttered. He slammed Carzap into the nearest storage container and leaned in close to him. “What a waste of energon.”

The merchant squirmed, gasped, and managed to choke out a sentence. “You won’t get away with this!”

“On the contrary, I do believe I will,” Shockwave said, an oddly smooth tone to his voice. “It is you who is not getting away with your transgressions.”

He slammed Carzap into the storage container again, this time headfirst. It smashed open his processor. Then Shockwave jabbed the claws of his other hand into his victim’s chestplate, tore out his sparkchamber, and carelessly lobbed it aside. It fell into an energon fire—the one caused by the detonation Carzap had last set off. It promptly crackled and exploded.

Shockwave dropped Carzap’s graying, mangled frame to the ground and stepped back. He paused for a second. Then he turned to face Swindle.

The sight of that lone, red optic on an empty faceplate was what finally confirmed in Swindle’s processor that this was, in fact, Shockwave. He made a strangled whimpering sound and held the plasma cannon more tightly.

“If I am correct, we have approximately one breem to exit this building before it becomes inescapable,” Shockwave said calmly. “I suggest we move quickly.”

Swindle only gaped. “You’re _Shockwave,”_ he said, his tone incredulous.

Shockwave shuttered his optic and sighed, then strolled back over to Swindle. “I am,” he said. “And you are wasting time.” Then he reached down and lifted Swindle off the ground with one arm.

“Hey!” Swindle cried. He just managed not to drop the cannon he was holding. “Put me down!”

“I will not have your inability to act quickly causing me the inconvenience of your death,” Shockwave said. He turned and started walking, taking long, swift strides.

“I can walk on my own!” Swindle yelled, squirming uselessly. Shockwave was carrying him as easily as a bag of old, spare parts.

“I should hope so. It would be quite inconvenient for us both otherwise.”

Swindle growled angrily, but before he could say anything else, Shockwave dumped him unceremoniously on his pedes near one of the blast doors that had fallen into place over the warehouse’s open doorways. The spy used both hands to claw a large hole in it. He stamped on the bottom edge of the hole to open it up wider, then shifted his frame until Swindle found himself staring at Stiletto once more.

“Move,” Shockwave/Stiletto commanded, glaring at Swindle.

Swindle faltered, but then he obeyed and ducked out through the hole Shockwave had torn open.

**‡**

They ran for several city blocks’ distance, through twisting alleyways where other mechs rarely went. Sirens wailed behind them, but gradually went silent as they got too far away to hear.

They reached the ship and both quickly entered it. Once the hatch was closed behind them, Swindle realized he was still carrying Carzap’s plasma cannon. He hastily put it away into his transwarp storage compartment.

“That could have gone better,” Stiletto said idly.

Swindle twitched, then rounded on her furiously. “You’re damn right it could have! It _all_ could have!”

Stiletto—Shockwave?—stared impassively back at him. “I fail to understand why you’re shouting at me.”

“You’re Shockwave!” Swindle yelled. “You’re not a harmless femme at all! I did _not_ sign up to transport a dangerous, escaped Decepticon prisoner across the galaxy! You could have killed me in my recharge! How am I supposed to be comfortable with this‽”

Shockwave/Stiletto shut her (his?) optics and sighed. “Swindle, if I had wanted you offline, I would not have rescued you just now,” she said.

“Well—okay, maybe so, but still!” Swindle protested. He made an aborted hand motion, deciding last minute that jabbing Shockwave in the chest might be a bad idea. “I do _not_ feel safe knowing that I’ve been traveling with—with _you!”_

“Swindle,” Shockwave said firmly. Swindle flinched at the sound of his voice—it was Shockwave’s own again. It didn’t fit with the Stiletto appearance he still wore. “You are safer traveling as my ally than you could ever possibly be on your own.”

“Well, _I_ don’t see it that way,” Swindle insisted. “Do you know what a target I would be if this got out‽”

“I should think that now, of all times, it would be remarkably obvious to you that you are already a target,” said the bot in disguise.

“Not as much as I could be,” said Swindle. Then he pointed at the ship’s exit hatch and ordered, “Get the frag off of my ship.”

Shockwave’s optics widened slightly. “Swindle, please reconsider,” he said. There was a pleading tone in his voice, but Swindle convinced himself the bot was faking. Everyone knew Shockwave had as little emotion left to him as Perceptor.

“No,” Swindle said firmly. “Get out.”

“I gave you classified information—even rescued you. I can _help_ you—”

_“Out!”_

Shockwave actually cringed. Swindle only glared harder.

Slowly, Shockwave turned and left, the tall heelstruts of his disguise clicking solemnly against the floor. Once he had gone Swindle shut the hatch, walked to the bridge, and slumped into his seat.

His spark ached. He felt betrayed.


	6. Rebalancing the Budget

Stiletto snuck through the Menonian alleyways. Because she still wore this frame she wasn’t worried about being recognized, but either way she still didn’t want to be seen by anyone.

She was shaken by the way Swindle had reacted to the revelation of her identity. Stiletto had assumed that the con mech would realize the advantages—not throw her out on some principle. The business relationship they had worked out had been mutually beneficial. That fact didn’t change when Shockwave showed his true shape—if anything, it should be even more beneficial to Swindle now. But no; Swindle seemed to see it otherwise.

Stiletto pushed the thought from her processor. Now was not the time to dwell on the illogical way Swindle had reacted. Now was the time to act—to do something about the situation that had caused for Shockwave.

And so Stiletto slipped out onto the Menonian public shipping yard. There were no workers around at this time of the night, but there were several cargo transports present. Stiletto drifted around the edge of the area, found the schedule, and checked it over quickly. One of the ships was leaving in the morning for Bk’n. She supposed it would have to do.

The spy glanced around quickly to ensure that there was still no one around and to locate the transport she would need to board. She found it quickly, checked once more for any mechs present, then dashed for the ship.

She slunk down underneath the ship and found the entrance hatch. She held his breath to keep himself quiet and carefully hacked the access terminal to gain entrance, then crept aboard.

Letting out a soft exhale, Stiletto shut the hatch and walked further into the ship. The dim cyan glow from the optics of Shockwave’s disguise was the only source of light. She walked slowly and carefully so she wouldn’t bump into anything—she didn’t want to leave any trace of her presence here.

Stiletto found a maintenance access hatch to the interior of one of the ship’s bulkheads and stowed herself away within to wait for morning.

**‡**

Swindle leaned his crossed arms onto his ship’s console and rested his chin atop them with a heavy sigh. He stared blankly at the newcast playing on the viewscreen, glancing every now and again at the stars streaking past outside the _Prosperity._ The CAN broadcast was playing on mute—there hadn’t been any updates on anything Swindle cared about, so he had shut the volume off. He’d been occupying himself by trying to read the announcers’ lips.

Then, though, he caught sight of a news headline that made him sit upright again in a flash.

_Shockwave spotted._

Swindle quickly turned the audio feed back on.

«—vidence of the Decepticon Shockwave has been found on the planet Menonia,» said the announcer. «The authorities have reason to believe that Shockwave murdered another mech and attempted to hide the evidence in an energon warehouse fire. The victim’s identity could not be identified. Enforcers are searching for Shockwave across the planet now. If you believe you have any reason to suspect that a mech you know is really Shockwave in disguise, please leave a report with your local office of the Elite Guard.»

Swindle muted the broadcast again with a scowl. “I hope you get caught, you sneaky glitch,” he muttered. His spark twisted in his chest, but he forced the feeling down.

“Enough of that,” Swindle scolded himself. “I should make the most of what I got out of Shockwave and sell it all off before anyone finds out what happened to it. Some place no mech will ask questions about where I got it all… Ah! I know just the place!”

With his course of action now decided, Swindle set a course for the planet Lucifer. The rebel insurgents there would pay a premium for the things he could sell them—as would many of Straxus’ Decepticon enforcers, and sometimes even the Lord High Governor Straxus himself.

**‡**

Stiletto waited patiently in absolute silence for several megacycles. She listened for any change in the background ambience of the transport ship’s steadily humming thrumming engines. When her chronometer alerted her to the local dawntime, Stiletto started to hear muffled voices. She heard the ship’s hatch open a moment later, and she stilled her breath to avoid detection.

She needn’t have worried, however. The shipping crew talked and laughed loudly as they trod aboard the ship. Stiletto continued to wait silently. The engines rumbled out of their idle state and hummed to life. Stiletto felt the inertial pressure pulling at her as the transport pulled up into the air, but she held herself perfectly still all the same.

She just had to bide her time…

**‡**

The insurgents of Lucifer waylaid Swindle almost the instant he landed on the planet. His reputation had preceded him; they’d all crowed for weapons like mechs possessed.

Swindle had been all too glad to oblige, of course. He made a tidy profit off of them all.

When he was done selling to the insurgents, Swindle made his way into the nearest upper-city quadrant. He received several threatening looks as he walked, but he met each one with a smile and a wave before pointing at the Decepticon insignia emblazed upon his chestplate.

It worked to keep them off him for the most part, until a mech that he’d once made a deal with spotted him.

Swindle was slammed into the nearest wall, the mech’s forearm pressing into his throat. He hit the metal surface with a loud clang and a yelp of pain.

“Hey, hey!” Swindle gasped. He turned wide, pleading optics on the larger mech as he tried to push his arm away. “What’s all this for?”

The mech growled and narrowed his optics. “This is about the laser gun you sold me.”

Swindle flashed his best grin and tried to squirm away. He failed. “Oh, that old thing! How did that work out for you?”

“It was a dud!” the mech snapped. Swindle flinched.

“A-are you sure about that?” he stuttered. “Maybe you weren’t using it right—”

“I’m not stupid!” the mech roared.

Swindle squeaked. “I wasn’t saying you are. Some of my wares are complicated and unusual, that’s all!”

“Don’t try to get out of this, Swindle,” the mech growled. “You’re going to pay for ripping me off!”

**‡**

When the transport ship landed on Bk’n, the mechs who had piloted it took several cycles to offload its cargo. By the time Stiletto able to exit the ship, it was late evening. Her servos were all cramped from staying so still for so long.

All the spy’s joints cracked when she finally started to move again. She fought past the discomfort of her stiff joints and fled from the shipping yard. She joined the many mechs and femmes walking along the streets of the Bk’nian city the transport had brought her to, looking around to try and determine which city it was. She was able to pick it out within minutes.

With that knowledge locked into her processor, Stiletto ducked out of the flow of traffic and into a nearby dance club. She wound her way through the tangle of patrons on the dance floor and snuck into the employee door at the back, then slipped carefully out the back of the building. She just managed to avoid being spotted by a janitor mech.

Stiletto exhaled softly and wandered a ways down the alleyway the back door of the club had opened into. She looked around to be sure there were no other bots around, then knelt, pried open a city maintenance hatch, and slid inside. The secret agent shifted back into his true form and reached up to carefully replace the cover—he wasn’t tall enough as Stiletto.

Shockwave then reached up with both hands and twisted his neck to pop the tension out of it. He stretched the rest of his frame out afterwards. A particularly solid sounding crack came from his lower back at the end of it, and he let out a heavy breath of air and straightened up again.

_“Much_ better,” he muttered to himself.

Now that he was feeling better, Shockwave quickly took his bearings and made his way further down the maintenance channel.

**‡**

“I _really_ think you should reconsider this,” Swindle insisted.

“Well _I_ really think _you_ should shut your lying trap,” said the con mech’s aggressor. “It’ll make it a lot easier on everyone.”

Swindle gulped and stared down with wide optics at the smelting pit in front of him. “What if I gave you a full refund?” he said weakly.

“Sure thing,” the other mech laughed darkly.

“Wha—really? That easy?”

“No,” the mech snapped. “Walk, Swindle!”

Swindle trembled and uncomfortably shifted one pede just a little bit further forward. “W-well, the problem is, I’ve never walked the plank into a pit of molten slag before,” he squeaked. He looked over his shoulder at all the mechs pointing their weapons at him and swallowed thickly. “You’re sure you won’t reconsider?”

“Definitely sure,” one of them said.

Primus below—this had to be the most terrifying experience of his life. Swindle wished Shockwave was here to rescue him again.

He’d ruined all chances of _that,_ now hadn’t he? But then again…

“You know,” the con mech said slowly, carefully, “I’ll bet Shockwave won’t be too happy if he finds out about this…”

Out of his peripheral vision, Swindle saw a couple of mechs stiffen abruptly. He allowed the faintest of smirks to curve onto the corners of his lips.

“What gives you any reason to say that?” one mech growled.

“Oh, no reason, really,” Swindle said. He thought quickly to come up with an excuse. “I owe him a laser pistol, that’s all. He really wants that thing, and it would be a shame if you kept it from him by destroying it with me…”

“He’s lying,” a mech barked. “Just push him in!”

“But what if he’s not?” another said.

Swindle took advantage of the conversation that rose up and edged himself back away from the edge of the smelting pit a little.

“I’ll pay you all back by one and a half times if we can all forget this and move on,” Swindle suggested. He had to lift his voice to be heard over the others’ conversations. The other mechs went silent for a moment. Swindle rebooted his vocalizer quietly and said nothing.

“Fine,” the first mech who had accosted him finally growled.

Swindle resisted the urge to whoop in relief. Instead he turned, grinned broadly, and strolled away from the edge of the smelting pit like it hadn’t even been an issue. “Well, let’s do that somewhere a little bit more pleasant, shall we? This is hardly an environment to do business in! All of you come this way, then, yes… Ah.”

One of the other Decepticons nudged the muzzle of his blaster into Swindle’s jaw. “Well, I suppose we can do it here,” he said quickly. He turned his optics to the mech who had assaulted him in the street earlier. “Remind me how much the laser gun I sold you was, would you?”

Swindle concluded the process of paying back his angry customers as swiftly and as inaccurately as he could. Several of them couldn’t remember the prices of what he had sold them, so he used it to his advantage.

He still had to hand out a disgusting amount of money, though. All of his profits from the insurgents before—gone in a puff of smoke. Swindle decided to cut his losses and get off the planet before anything else happened, so he went back to the _Prosperity_ and took off at the earliest opportunity.


	7. Market Crash

Swindle tossed a plasma gun back into its box with a frustrated sound. “No, no, no!” he chanted. “None of this will be enough! _Where_ are my high-ticket items?”

The con mech had decided that the best thing to do to recover from the hard hit he’d taken on Lucifer was to sell heavily on the next planet he went to so he could bring his bottom line back up. The problem with that plan, however, was that the _Prosperity’s_ storage compartments were a mess—he couldn’t find any of the things he wanted to sell. And for that matter, he hadn’t decided where he wanted to go to sell it all, either.

Swindle straightened up with an irritated huff. _“Well,”_ he said. “Let’s try this another way.”

He stalked up to the bridge of the _Prosperity_ and brought up a map of the local star cluster. He mumbled the names of planets under his breath as he looked over their star systems, scowling, but then his expression lit into a grin.

“Ah-hah!” Swindle exclaimed. “I haven’t been there in stellar cycles!” He hummed approvingly and set a course for the planet he’d decided on. A smug grin crawled onto his features. “And it’ll be a long enough trip that I’ll have time to reorganize my stock again, too!”

**‡**

Stiletto scrambled out of the hold of the transport ship she’d stowed away on back on Bk’n. She hastily slung herself up onto the top of the ship and ducked flat against the surface to put herself out of sight. She waited with bated breath for the ship’s pilot staff to disperse. Once they had been gone for a breem or so, Stiletto climbed back to the ground.

The spy looked around with her optics narrowed. Then, when she had determined the coast was truly clear, she ran across the shipping yard to the back exit. The gate was closed, but Stiletto didn’t try to open it. She simply vaulted over the fence instead.

Velocitron. It hadn’t been Shockwave’s first pick of planet—not by a long shot—but Bk’n was hardly the best place to find other Decepticons and mercenaries. At least there was some chance of that on Velocitron.

And without Swindle to bring her around the galaxy, Stiletto had to take whatever transport she could get. She might as well make the best of it while she was here.

**‡**

The track circuit of Velocitron was where Team Stunticon had been scouted into the Decepticon faction from. They were nowhere to be seen there now, of course—they were locked in the Trypticon prison, filling cells near the one that Shockwave had escaped from. But the spy had hopes that, perhaps, there would be likeminded mechs among the crowds here today.

So far, though, all Stiletto had seen were a few racers that got a little bit hot under the collar plating about losing the races. They did nothing more than fume a little before accepting defeat. And the crowds weren’t much better; the cheers that sounded whenever one of the racers flipped and crashed held none of the lust for carnage that Stiletto was listening so intently for. It was disappointing.

Stiletto sighed heavily. She supposed she’d have to try again someplace else.

Recruiting was so much easier when she could target specific planets that had potential.

The spy turned and pushed her way through the crowd of mechs and femmes watching the racers rip around the spaghetti shaped track. She exited the racing stadium—two smaller mechs squeezed into the gap she had left to get into the stadium. Stiletto strode purposefully away from the stadium, putting empty distance behind her. The cheering faded into the distance, but the sound of engines blaring everywhere around more than made up for the absence.

 _It really is such a noisy planet,_ Stiletto thought to herself as he stepped into a much more construction heavy area. Unlike the flat, empty plains and ubiquitous racing tracks, this almost counted as a proper city—one of the few places where mechs came to recharge and refuel between races.

Stiletto felt safer here. There were less people packed in all around her, more places for her to duck into and hide if she needed to—

A hand landed heavily on Stiletto’s shoulder, wrenching her to a stop. A familiar voice growled in her audial.

“Got a moment?”

Stiletto jerked in surprise and whipped around. Her optics widened in alarm.

Lockdown grinned back at him with a sadistic air. “Now, what’s that face for? I didn’t expect you to be wearing one at all.”

Stiletto’s spark leapt and a sick feeling crawled into her throat. _Lockdown knew._ Somehow, the bounty hunter knew who she was, even with the feminine frame she wore.

Stiletto shoved herself away from Lockdown—they both stumbled with the force of it—and she ran.

Lockdown snarled a curse and hurried after her.

Stiletto put on the biggest burst of speed she possibly could. Her heelstruts slammed into the corrugated metal of the Velocitronian street. Lockdown’s pedesteps chasing after her sounded even louder.

“Get back here, you slippery fragger!” the bounty hunter yelled.

Stiletto didn’t dare stop or slow. Her pedes skidded against the ground as she took a sharp turn onto a side street. A pair of mechs yelped and leapt out of her way.

“Hey, watch it, slowpoke!” one of them yelled.

For once, Stiletto wished she could borrow the speed of a native Velocitronian.

All of a sudden a heavy weight slammed into Stiletto’s back. She choked and crashed face first into the ground, one knee planting into the metal surface beneath her chestplate. The joint snapped sharply out of place—Stiletto muffled a cry of pain in the back of her throat.

“You aren’t getting away from me that easily, sweetspark,” Lockdown snarled, his tone mocking. “Thought you’d fool me by wearin’ a femme’s plating, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stiletto gasped. She twisted and threw Lockdown off of her. The bounty hunter yelped in surprise and Stiletto forced herself to her pedes. Her knee joint screamed pain onto her sensornet. Unwilling to go down so easily, Stiletto forced her weight onto that leg and pushed the joint back into place. It stung brutally, and she clenched her jaw in response.

Lockdown scrambled upright and glared at Stiletto. He threw his poncho off and advanced on the bot in disguise—Stiletto stumbled backwards.

“Come quietly, Shockwave,” Lockdown growled. “You’re not getting away from this one.”

“I’m not Shockwave!”

“Your spark signature says otherwise,” Lockdown said. His mouth curved in a deadly smirk. “I should really thank Swindle for the spark signature tracker he sold me. Works like a charm.”

Stiletto’s spark twisted in her chest. She should have expected that Swindle might have something to do with it—he had his oversized fingers in just about every monetary venture there was to be had. But _this_ sent a crawl of distaste down Stiletto’s back.

“Then I suppose I have no choice,” the spy muttered.

“That’s right,” Lockdown chuckled. He grinned, dropping an electric net from the plating at his wrist and catching it loosely in his fingers. “Do it the easy way and I might be gentle when I’m cutting that mod of yours out.”

“I have no mods,” Stiletto spat. The spike blades nested along her forearms—really Shockwave’s claws, but daggers in this form—twisted forward with a clench of her fists. She couldn’t run with a broken knee joint. She would have to fight instead.

“Pit slag,” Lockdown snapped back. “What do you call it, then?”

Stiletto didn’t dignify that with an answer. She struck out at Lockdown’s throat.

Lockdown jerked away so that Stiletto missed. “Oh, is that how it’s gonna be?” he growled.

Stiletto stumbled on her bad leg—Lockdown noticed. He crouched and aimed a sweeping kick for that leg. Stiletto jumped it—she landed on his other leg and brought the damaged one around to kick Lockdown firmly in the helm.

Lockdown staggered. Then he growled and dove at the other mech.

Stiletto barely dodged out of the way. Lockdown turned sharply and swung the electric net at Stiletto’s helm. It caught and arced with a burning charge. Stiletto yowled and hastily cut the thing off, though she ended up stepping wrong on her bad leg and falling to her back on the ground.

“That was a favorite net of mine,” Lockdown growled. He stomped on Stiletto’s chestplate and ground his heel down, directly on the crimson optic disguised as decoration there.

“Get off me!” Stiletto shouted. She punched Lockdown’s calf, her blades stabbing deeply into the metal, and twisted her arm.

Lockdown cussed loudly and fell, catching himself on his one hand. Stiletto rolled out from under him and scrambled upright.

“Why you—!” Lockdown snarled. He threw himself back at Stiletto, swinging his hook. He gashed Stiletto across the face with it, but received a nasty trio of scratches across his chestplate in return.

The two bots began trading blows more seriously now. Shockwave didn’t dare resume his natural form on a broken knee—the weight would be too much. It gave Lockdown a size advantage; one that he used to the fullest.

But damage aside, desperation made Stiletto faster.

“Hold still!” Lockdown snarled. He kicked out and caught Stiletto in the hip.

Stiletto twisted and grabbed Lockdown’s leg in both hands, throwing him to the ground with his own momentum. Gasping, she backed away hurriedly. “You won’t defeat me, Lockdown.”

“I will,” Lockdown retorted. He shoved himself backwards with a twist to his frame and swung his legs in a crisscross motion. He tripped Stiletto to the ground and tackled her. His hand closed tightly around Stiletto’s throat.

“Do you surrender yet?” panted Lockdown.

“No!” Stiletto gasped. She stabbed Lockdown in the midsection and twisted the blades.

Lockdown choked and coughed, spitting up energon. Stiletto pushed him away and staggered to her pedes.

“Slagger,” Lockdown gasped. He forced himself upright as well, his hand pressed over his wounded abdomen. “I’ll get you back for that!”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Stiletto panted. She turned to face Lockdown and backed another few steps away. The roadway widened slightly the further it went; she could just see it in her peripheral vision. She slid backwards a little faster, and then…

Finally, there was enough room around her.

Shockwave snapped into his altmode. His tank form filled the roadway and his main cannon trained directly on Lockdown.

Lockdown had just enough time for his optics to widen in surprise. Then Shockwave hit him directly in the chestplate with a blast from his cannon. The bounty hunter was knocked backwards a distance greater than his own frame length. He crashed to the ground and laid there, as still as if he’d been offlined.

Shockwave returned to bipedal mode with a creak of protesting, aching joints and watched Lockdown’s frame for any hint of a shift to gray, but there was none. The spy narrowed her optics, but made the decision to turn and leave him there—Stiletto didn’t have the strength left in her to properly dispose of Lockdown’s body. She _had_ to leave him.

Mentally cursing the extensive damage she’d taken in the fight, Stiletto limped away.

**‡**

The damaged bot in disguise staggered and tripped into the door of the medical clinic. Shaking and dizzy, she pushed herself back upright and knocked more properly. She tried his best to keep the weight off her bad knee, but it was hard to keep her balance to begin with.

After a brief moment or so, a shorter red mech opened the door and stared up at her with an appalled sort of expression. “What happened to _you?”_

“Are you the medic here?” Stiletto demanded, ignoring the mech’s question.

The red mech stiffened indignantly, but then huffed an exhale and shrugged it off. “Yes, I am. Come inside.”

Stiletto stepped through the door.


	8. Loss Leader

“Why, Swindle!” Knock Out cried. He pulled the door of his clinic open wider and stepped aside. “What a lovely surprise!”

Swindle flashed a smarmy grin at Knock Out and walked into the clinic. “Well, you know,” he purred. “I was in the neighborhood after some _very_ successful business deals, so I thought I might make a visit to one of my most loyal component buyers.”

Knock Out chuckled and shut the door, ushering Swindle into the clinic. “Anything I can look at for you while you’re here?” he asked. “Free of charge, of course! I don’t know where I would get some of the parts I need if not for your help.”

“Now, how can I refuse an offer like that?” Swindle laughed.

The con mech followed Knock Out deeper into the clinic to an examination room. It wasn’t as clean as some of the medical facilities on Cybertron, perhaps, but it was just about pristine compared to the rest of Velocitron.

“Now, is there anything you can think of that I should be taking a look at?” Knock Out flitted about the room as Swindle seated himself on the medical berth.

“Nothing that pops to mind,” Swindle said. “But I did get roughed up a little by a few mechs on Lucifer.”

“Hmm,” Knock Out hummed. “I’ll give you a thorough look-over, then.”

The medic brought out a scanner and ran it over Swindle’s frame. The con mech held still to the best of his ability, but the tickling static of the scanner made him squirm a little. Knock Out didn’t seem to mind.

After a moment of silence while Knock Out scanned him, Swindle spoke up. “So,” he said. “You don’t seem very busy today.”

“No,” Knock Out hummed. “There’s a new rule in place on the nearest racetrack—makes things safer. A little less exciting, honestly. But at least I don’t have to deal with as many bumbling racers.” The medic smirked. “I could beat any of them anyway, I’m sure.”

Swindle laughed. “Well, I won’t argue with that! So there’s no one else here, then?”

“Actually,” said Knock Out, “I do have one other patient here.” He paused to twiddle with his scanner for a second or so. “Some femme who’s been here for a few solar cycles now. I’d say she was pretty if she hadn’t been mauled so badly.”

_“Mauled?”_ Swindle asked, blinking owlishly. “On Velocitron? Did she grind off a chittie at one of the races or something?”

“She wouldn’t say.” Knock Out shrugged and walked across the room to put his scanner away. “It doesn’t _look_ like a chit-counter did this to her, though.”

“Hmm,” Swindle hummed, a curious expression on his face. Then he shrugged. “Oh well. It isn’t any of my business unless you need to buy parts for her.”

“Actually, I might. I don’t know if I have the parts to repair her knee joint,” Knock Out huffed. He shut the drawer on his scanner. “There’s nothing wrong with you except a few paint scratches—and I only deal with my _own_ cosmetics for free.”

“Wonderful,” Swindle declared, and he stood up. “And completely understandable! Anyway, the scratches make me look tougher.”

“If you say so,” said Knock Out. “Now, let’s go see about those parts, shall we?”

“Gladly,” said Swindle.

The pair of Decepticons strolled back to the front lobby of the clinic. Knock Out began typing at his terminal and brought up a summary of his current inventory. He waved Swindle closer—the taller mech stepped in behind him and peered at the list with him.

“You can see how low I’ve gotten on some things,” Knock Out said. “And see here—I’ve almost completely run out of size four hydraulic actuators. I _am_ out of type seven servomechanisms. Too many racers on this planet use those parts. And that’s not all of it, either—this is only the first page of my inventory.”

“Well, as it so happens, I do have some of those things myself,” said Swindle. “They’d be on my ship.”

“I’ll write you a shopping list,” Knock Out muttered.

**‡**

Swindle returned with his transwarp storage compartment filled nearly to bursting with all the parts Knock Out had requested. There were a few weapons in there as well, of course—Swindle never went anywhere without some sort of arsenal on him.

“Special order for Knock Out!” Swindle announced, pushing open the clinic door and striding boldly inside.

Then he nearly tripped on himself in surprise.

The con mech found himself gaping helplessly across the room—he hadn’t actually expected to ever meet this particular Cybertronian again, let alone in a medical clinic on Velocitron.

Stiletto stared back at him with a stunned expression on her façade. Then her lips pulled flat in disgust. The expression pulled the gash in the metalmesh of Stiletto’s cheek into an ugly, twisted shape.

“Swindle,” she said coolly. “Fancy meeting you here.” It was strange to see and hear Stiletto when Swindle knew he was really talking to Shockwave.

Swindle forced a smirk despite the sudden ache that assaulted his spark. “Stiletto,” he said, sliding a sarcastic tone into his voice. “I see you got yourself into some trouble.”

Stiletto’s optics narrowed and she leaned a little more heavily against the crutch under her arm. “The other bot ended in a worse state, I assure you.”

“I believe that,” Swindle muttered.

At that moment, Knock Out ducked into the room. He pulled up short and looked between the other two, who were locked in an aggressive staring contest of sorts.

“I… ah… take it you two know each other?” the medic said, slowly and cautiously.

“We’ve met,” Stiletto said, her tone blunt.

“Well,” Knock Out chuckled. He shifted his weight, looking uneasy. “This is an awfully toxic atmosphere. Would you mind toning down the hostility a little?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Swindle said. “Stiletto and I had a very amiable business relationship. But then again—she lied to me about something very important.” He didn’t bother to push the bitterness out of his tone.

“You would have done the same in my position,” Stiletto retorted. “In fact, I do believe you would do the same even under far less urgent circumstances.”

“Actually, I would never lie about my identity!” Swindle snapped.

Knock Out rebooted his vocalizer. “Swindle, he has good reason for doing that,” he said.

Swindle noted the pronoun Knock Out used and scoffed. So he knew. “Oh, but he’ll be up front about it with some medic on Velocitron?” he snapped.

Stiletto tensed. She clenched her fists—the one curled around the handle of her crutch creaked ominously. “I’m a shifter, Swindle,” she said stiffly. “Any bot intending to repair me needs to know that or I risk damage.”

“Even I can see how self serving that justification is.” Swindle frowned. “You said you could help me, but I’m not convinced you weren’t just using me entirely for your own gains!”

“I’m not interested in arguing matters of logic and ethics— especially not with you,” Stiletto said, her tone low. “Good bye, Swindle. I hope you choke on your hypocrisy.” She pushed past the other mech harshly and stalked out of the clinic as best she was able to using a crutch. Swindle blinked and gaped after her.

“Wait—!” Knock Out gasped. He lunged after Stiletto and leaned out of the door. “Stiletto! You’re not fully repaired! Get back here!”

“Oh, let him go,” said Swindle, rubbing his shoulder where Stiletto had pushed him. “Frankly, I think he deserves to stay damaged for a while.”

Knock Out turned a surprised look on Swindle, but then sighed and came back inside the clinic. “Let me fix that dent,” he said wearily.

Swindle nodded and followed Knock Out back to the examination room. His spark crawled with a choking dissatisfaction that he couldn’t pin down.

**‡**

Back on the _Prosperity_ with his profits from selling all those components to Knock Out—and with his shoulder plating feeling a touch sore from getting hammered back into place—Swindle found himself lounging in the pilot seat with one leg crossed over the other and not doing much of anything save for tapping the toe of his pede in the air. He didn’t feel particularly motivated.

Even counting out his profits and marking down his current financial standings hadn’t improved Swindle’s mood very much. There was a dull, creeping ache still clawing at his spark,

An incoming transmission snapped Swindle out of his funk. He sat up straighter in his chair and opened the communication.

“Lockdown!” he exclaimed, putting on a grin. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you! How’s that spark signature tracker I sold you working out, huh?”

The bounty hunter smirked, but it looked halfhearted. «Funny story,» he said. «Works like a charm, but the mech still got away from me.»

Swindle arched an optic ridge and gave Lockdown a quick look-over. It looked like there were deep claw marks arcing down the front of his chestplate, and he had several other, more minor scrape wounds that Swindle could see—nothing below his chestplate was visible, but it seemed likely he had more injuries there as well. “Geeze,” Swindle huffed, his processor making a connection. He lounged back in his chair with a mocking Cheshire grin. “He fought you off, huh? ’Cause it looks like you had a run-in with ol’ one-optic or something.”

Lockdown’s smirk grew knowing. «Yeah? An’ what would you know about that?»

Swindle blinked. “Um. Nothing personally, of course,” he said quickly. Then he faltered. “It’s just—ah—”

«You’re on Velocitron, ain’t ya?» Lockdown interrupted. «Where’d you see him? He buy somethin’ from you?»

Swindle drew himself up with an affronted pout. “Now listen here, Lockdown,” he said firmly. “Even if he had, I don’t just rat out my customers like that. It’s extremely bad for business!”

Lockdown grinned wickedly. «How’s half his bounty sound, then?»

The con mech stared. He rubbed one of his audials. “I’m sorry, come again?”

«Half of Shockwave’s bounty,» Lockdown said. «An’ that bounty’s two hundred million.»

Swindle gave a low whistle—suddenly the fifty million Shockwave had given Swindle seemed like just a bit of a rip-off. “Is it, now?” he drawled. “And you’ll give me half of that for _what,_ exactly~?”

Lockdown grimaced. «Your help,» he said. «The glitch tore me up pretty bad—even with a busted leg, he’s fast. I’m gonna need a hand to bring him down.»

“Well, now, _this_ is interesting,” Swindle purred. He leaned forwards and smirked darkly at Lockdown, lacing his fingers together beneath his chin. “You’ve never asked anyone for _help_ before…”

Lockdown hesitated. Swindle grinned. So he had—but Swindle wasn’t supposed to know about it.

«No,» Lockdown said firmly. «But this is Shockwave we’re talkin’ about here.»

“I know. Trust me, I know,” Swindle said. He leaned back again and idly played with his own fingers, no longer looking at Lockdown. “And considering the stakes here… Well, I’m not sure if a hundred million will be enough.”

«Take it all, then,» Lockdown growled. «Greedy slagger. I just want that mod of his.»

“His mod?” Swindle asked. “What mod does he even have that you’d want—those silly sensory antennae?”

«No,» Lockdown said, expression grim. «His shape-shifting mod.»

“Ooooh~,” Swindle laughed. “That one. I thought he was just a shifter—no mods involved.”

«It’s a mod, all right,» said Lockdown. «I know it is. Ain’t any shifters left—haven’t been for longer than _that_ creepy pit-spawn’s been around.»

“Well, all right,” said Swindle, although he wasn’t entirely convinced of that. He lowered his hands and tapped his fingers against the arms of his seat thoughtfully. “So let me see here, Lockdown… You’re offering me the full cut of Shockwave’s _impressive_ bounty to help you cuff him up, hm? I think we can work something out. I have all _sorts_ of pretty little weapons I’ve been just dying to test-run, you see…”

Lockdown smirked. «I thought you’d see it my way,» he chuckled.

With their new mutual arrangement agreed upon, Swindle and Lockdown arranged for a place to meet, then shut off the communication channel between them. Swindle quickly packed what he would need into his private storage dimension and set off. The nagging ache in Swindle’s spark hadn’t abated—if anything, it was worse—but the promise of that much money spurred him on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chit-counter (or chittie) is the galactic equivalent to an Earth bookmaker/bookie.


	9. Buy Low, Sell High

Up close, it was a lot easier to see all the damage Shockwave had dealt to Lockdown’s frame. Swindle kept noticing more of it; a gash here, a puncture there. His chestplate looked like a very large dent had been hastily forced out of it. The metal was weakened in places—when Lockdown turned the right way, the color of it was off, more pale and matte than it should have been.

Some of the plating on Lockdown’s calf had been hastily patch-welded. He was wearing a heavy medical brace around his waist, too. Swindle couldn’t see the injury it concealed, but he was willing to bet Shockwave’s claws had been involved somehow.

He had seen what Shockwave’s claws could do to a mech, after all—Lockdown was lucky. Swindle counted himself even luckier for never having been at the wrong end of those claws himself.

“Y’know, if you’re gonna stare, can ya not be so obvious about it?” Lockdown harrumphed.

Swindle laughed and turned his optics away. “Sorry, Lockdown. I’m just trying to get a better look at what we’re dealing with here.”

Lockdown scoffed and finished attaching the laser cannon Swindle had generously decided to lend him for this ‘mission’. “Whatever.”

Swindle smiled wide and adjusted his built-in weaponry slightly one last time before retracting it all back into his frame. “So, Lockdown,” he drawled. “What’s your plan?”

“First we find him,” said Lockdown. He turned over his right forearm and uncovered the panel concealing the spark signature tracker he’d bought from Swindle. He lightly tapped the display with one fingertip. “What happens then depends on _where_ we find him.”

“But that could be just about anywhere,” said Swindle.

“Doesn’t matter,” Lockdown said pointedly. He shot Swindle a smirk. “You’re still gonna help me catch him.”

Swindle swallowed thickly, but he put on a chipper tone when he replied. “True enough!”

**‡**

The spark signature tracker led Lockdown and Swindle out of the town and a fair distance away. They walked a fair distance across the flat surface of Velocitron, neither of them speaking. It was clear what their destination was—a cluster of dilapidated structures lay ahead of them. Likely the only reason that they hadn’t been either repaired or condemned and torn down was that the people of Velocitron were too busy with their racing to take care of it.

“I’m getting a bad feeling about this,” Swindle muttered.

Lockdown scoffed. “Why?” he asked. “So the glitch ran off to hide. He’s injured, remember?”

They entered the wrecked village.

Swindle hummed discontentedly. He followed Lockdown at a slight distance, his optics darting from side to side. He swore he saw movement in a shadow at the corner of one building, but when he stared at the spot there was nowhere for anything to move in or out from.

“Calm down, Swindle. You look like ya saw a ghost,” Lockdown chuckled.

“Who, me? No, no, I’m fine!” Swindle grinned, hoping to seem convincing.

Lockdown snorted and moved on.

“You head that way,” he said, waving his hand down another rusted street. “And keep your optics peeled.”

“Right away,” Swindle replied. He pressed his lips together and turned in that direction, then set off.

The peeling paint and encroaching rust covering the buildings sent an uncomfortable shudder down Swindle’s back. This place was creepy. It almost made sense that a mech like Shockwave would hide here… Except that he was injured. Buildings as warped, tilted, and generally mangled as these weren’t the best of places for a mech who needed a crutch to get around. Swindle couldn’t wrap his processor around it.

There _had_ to be something up, here. Simply had to be.

Still, despite that, Swindle kept moving forward. There was too much money on the line not to.

**‡**

Stiletto’s knee was throbbing. She could barely stand on that leg without the injured joint throwing sharp spikes of pain up the entire limb. She should have stayed at Knock Out’s clinic and let the medic repair it.

The spy watched from an upper storey window as Lockdown passed by her on the ground. She couldn’t see where Swindle had gone anymore. In a way, she was glad the two had split up—it would be easier to handle one of them at a time than to deal with them both. But at the same time, it meant they were more likely to find her, and she most certainly did _not_ want to be found.

Stiletto backed away from the window and grabbed her crutch. She hobbled down the stairs to the second floor of the building. The steps creaked ominously. This place was falling apart. It was nigh completely unstable—Stiletto hoped to turn that to her advantage. After all, in this frame, she was lighter than either of the mechs pursuing her.

Stiletto gingerly picked her way across a ragged bridge of unbroken floor at the edge of the room and snuck out of a hole in the wall to follow Lockdown across the connecting rooftop.

**‡**

When he didn’t find any sign of Shockwave’s presence on the ground, Swindle moved up a level and started searching the buildings. They were utterly decrepit—Swindle nearly fell through the floor so many times he lost count after he’d checked about three buildings or so.

But after a while, Swindle hit the jackpot. Which is to say, he found where Shockwave was hiding.

The bot in disguise was crouched on the edge of a rooftop, her crutch beside her and her injured leg splayed out awkwardly. She looked to be intently watching something on the ground. Swindle couldn’t see what it was, but he would bet anything (well, metaphorically anyway) that it was Lockdown.

_A mistake not to keep an optic on both of us,_ Swindle thought to himself with a smirk. He pressed his back against the wall so that he wouldn’t be visible through the windows or doorway and he waited. As silently as he could, he retrieved an acid pistol from his transwarp storage compartment. It seemed best to use a smaller weapon for now; a larger one would be harder to ready quietly, and he didn’t want to tip Stiletto off that he was there.

Sure enough, after a moment Swindle heard a shifting sound and a few clatters. It sounded like Stiletto was standing up. Then Swindle heard the sound of limping pedesteps coming closer, and he grinned.

Stiletto limped right past the empty doorway.

Swindle lunged and grabbed Stiletto from behind. Stiletto yelped; Swindle shoved the muzzle of his acid pistol under the spy’s chin.

“Hey there, Shocky,” Swindle purred. “Mind if I take up a little of your time?”

Stiletto slammed the foot of her crutch into Swindle’s pede. With a yelp, Swindle instinctively let her go and pulled away. Stiletto whipped around and cracked Swindle over the helm with the crutch.

Swindle faceplanted into the roof with an undignified squawk, his pistol falling from his hand and skittering away. It fell off the roof and hit the ground. The clattering noise was intersected by the sound of glass shattering. By the time Swindle got himself back upright, Stiletto was gone. A quick look around revealed that one of the windows of another building nearby had been broken—little shards of glass still clung to the frame, but most were scattered on the floor inside the building.

“Slag it!” Swindle exclaimed heatedly. He jumped down, retrieved his pistol, and commed Lockdown. “Lockdown, ol’ buddy! Any luck on your end?”

«Fragger’s slipperier than the ice moons of Vespa XI,» Lockdown growled. «Keep lookin’ for him.»

“Sure thing,” Swindle sighed. He cut the comm and leaned in through the window Shockwave had apparently smashed through. There was no sign of the spy anywhere Swindle looked. “If I can _find_ him again…”

**‡**

Stiletto had to sit down for a moment just to let her sensornet stop screaming at her. When Swindle grabbed her, it had jarred her knee—something that had previously only been bent out of its place was now thoroughly broken, and whatever it was it had bent so it was stabbing into one of her fuel lines. If she moved the joint too much the line might rupture, and then she’d have internal bleeding and swelling to deal with.

“Scrap,” Stiletto muttered. She bent down and felt along the joint gently with both hands. She immediately regretted it, and she hissed in pain.

The spy straightened up and leaned heavily on her crutch for support. She had to keep moving—she couldn’t just stay here. She needed to find someplace she could defend.

Stiletto forced herself to stagger across the room and out the door onto the balcony. She shuffled to the railing and swatted at it with the foot of her crutch—the fatally rusted metal disintegrated with a whispering sound. Stiletto cleared an area of fence and carefully sat in the empty spot, then lowered herself the half body length to the roof immediately below. She barely managed to avoid jarring her injured leg.

Stiletto traversed the rooftop as quickly as she was able to. She reached the tower at the other end of it without issue and let out a silent sigh of relief. A swift glance over her shoulder assured her that she hadn’t been followed. The spy hung her crutch from one arm and made to start scaling the side of the tower.

A laser shot completely disintegrated her planned handhold.

The spy yelped and whipped around in surprise. She caught sight of Lockdown, standing on the ground with a smug grin on his face and a laser cannon in his hand. And then she slipped and fell backwards off the roof.

Stiletto hit the ground hard on her back with a clang. The wind was knocked right out of her.

The light dimmed and Stiletto found herself staring up into large purple optics. Swindle looked down at her with a frown and pointed something at her—an EMP blaster.

“Swindle,” Stiletto gasped. “Don’t do this.”

“Sorry, darling, no can do,” Swindle said grimly, and he aimed the EMP blaster at Stiletto’s spark. “I’m being paid for this one.”

**‡**

Lockdown heaved Stiletto’s unconscious frame into the makeshift holding cell—a repurposed storage compartment—with a grunt and shut the door. “That’s a load off my processor,” he muttered.

“If I may say it again,” said Swindle, “that was a very nice shot back there.”

“Heh.” Lockdown smirked and dusted himself off with his one hand. “I know.”

Swindle grinned and put his hands on his hips. “Well, now that you have Shockwave, what do you plan to do next?”

“Take him apart,” Lockdown said. “Get that mod out of ’im. Then I’ll bring his spark in as proof I offlined him and get the bounty.”

Swindle hummed and pursed his lips. “Grisly business, that,” he mused. “Mind if I get out before you start your dissection? You can pay me now, I’m sure—and you will, of course, get the money back when you collect the bounty.”

Lockdown narrowed his optics, then rolled them. “Yeah, sure,” he huffed. “Hold on.” He stepped into the next room, fiddled around with something, then came back holding a handful of credit chits. “Here,” he said.

Swindle held out a hand and Lockdown dumped the chits into it.

“Count ’em,” said Lockdown.

Swindle obeyed. He came out with an even ‡200 — — and grinned. “It’s all there,” he said, and he dumped the chits into his transwarp storage compartment. “Two hundred million!”

Lockdown grunted. “Yeah. Now, I gotta have a look at the engine on this bucket o’ bolts—her engine’s been hiccupping since I landed on this rock. Need you t’ let me know when Shockwave wakes up.”

Swindle blinked, then smirked. “You’re leaving _me_ unsupervised around your trophies?”

Lockdown jabbed him in the chest with his hook. “ ’Cause you know I’ll gut ya if you steal anything. And I’ll know if you do.”

Swindle grinned meekly. “Right you are,” he said. “I’ll just keep an optic on Shockwave, then!”


	10. Return Policy

Swindle waited for Stiletto to wake up in a state of utmost boredom and temptation. He paced the interior of the _Death’s Head,_ staring at all of the mods Lockdown had collected from his bounties over the stellar cycles.

There were countless weapons, add ons, and sensory boosters of all sorts. There were cloaking devices and power recirculators—even a magnetron shield beckoned from the shelves. All of it was gorgeous, individual, unique technology, old and new. Maybe there were some dings, paint transfers, and scratches in a few places, but every piece looked like it still must be in beautiful condition aside from that.

Swindle’s fingers itched to pull them from the shelves. He reached for something several times, but every time, Lockdown’s words rang through his processor and he snatched his hands back like he’d been burned.

_“ ’Cause you know I’ll gut ya if you steal anything. And I’ll know if you do.”_

“Glitch,” Swindle muttered to himself, crossing his arms. “I _should_ take something, just to stick it to that aft.”

But no matter how much he wanted to, he didn’t. None of these things was worth directing Lockdown’s wrath onto himself, no matter how tempting they might have been.

Sighing heavily, Swindle slumped to the floor against the wall across from the door to Stiletto’s holding cell. He stared through the translucent material—it couldn’t be glass; Lockdown wouldn’t have something that fragile on his ship. Stiletto was still lying sprawled on the floor, unconscious.

Swindle almost wondered if he’d caused lasting damage when he hit the bot with that EMP blaster. Surely not—he _hoped_ not, for whatever reason—but he still considered the possibility.

However, those concerns were dispelled, somewhat, when Stiletto groaned softly.

Swindle blinked and sat up a little straighter. The sound had been slightly muffled through the door, but it was unmistakably pained. It made the con mech frown.

Stiletto shakily pushed herself up on her elbows and turned over onto her back so she could sit up. Her swollen knee turned and she stopped, biting back some pained sound that made Swindle’s spark lurch. How much was that injury still hurting her?

The spy stayed still and breathed heavily for a moment. Then she looked up and saw Swindle.

They stared at each other with wide optics for a moment. Then Stiletto glared venomously.

“Swindle,” she snapped. “What an unpleasant sight you are to online to.”

Swindle huffed a sigh and forced a casual shrug. “I know you don’t want to see me,” he said. “Trust me, I get it. But Lockdown wanted me to let him know when you woke up. So, now that you _have…”_ The con mech made to push himself to his pedes.

Stiletto’s optics snapped wide open again. “Wait, Swindle!” she gasped. She tried to stand—she failed, so instead she simply pushed himself up higher on her good knee—and stared pleadingly through the door she was locked behind. “Let me say something first!”

Swindle paused, then shrugged and sat back down. “Hey, why not. What is it?”

Stiletto exhaled harshly and sat back against the ground as well. “I apologize.”

The con mech stared, wide optic’d and unblinking. “…For what?”

“For deceiving you,” said Stiletto.

Swindle’s optics somehow widened even further, then narrowed suspiciously. “Wait just a nanocycle,” he said. “Weren’t you super adamant before that I was the bot in the wrong?”

“I reconsidered,” Stiletto said pointedly. “We both were, to different extents. I’m apologizing for my side of the issue.”

Swindle twisted his mouth in a thoughtful, but unsure expression. “Are you just saying this so I’ll help you?”

Stiletto sighed heavily. “In part,” she admitted.

Swindle laughed. The sound was virtually mirthless. “Apologizing isn’t going to change anything, you know,” he said.

“So you’re completely through with me, then.” Stiletto frowned. “I suppose you’ll leave me for Lockdown to take apart, then. It won’t do him any good. He can’t take something spark deep for himself the way he takes his other trophies.”

“So you _are_ a real shifter,” said Swindle, his interest piqued. “Lockdown thinks there aren’t any left.”

“It’s in my lineage,” Stiletto said vaguely. “You could use the abilities I have, Swindle. I would be indebted to you should you release me.”

“Still trying to make me let you go,” Swindle laughed. He pushed himself upright and dusted himself off—Stiletto’s expression turned acidic. The con mech smiled sweetly back at her. “Try to enjoy the last of your life, Shockwave. Oh, but wait—you won’t.”

He turned and walked away.

“Swindle?” Stiletto lurched forward and pressed against the door. “Swindle, please reconsider! _Swindle!”_

**‡**

 Swindle strolled idly up to Lockdown. The bounty hunter was leaned halfway into one of the engines of the _Death’s Head_ , grumbling and muttering about something that wasn’t working right.

“I can sell you something to fix that with.”

Lockdown jerked in surprise and cracked the back of his head against the upper part of the engine. He cursed. Scowling and rubbing his helm, Lockdown pulled away from his work and turned to Swindle. “I’ve got everything I need for this job,” he said. “Shockwave awake?”

“He just onlined,” Swindle said.

“Excellent,” said Lockdown. He grabbed a rag off the lower lip of the engine housing with his hook and used it to wipe some of the grease off his hand. “Then you’re free to leave.”

Swindle grinned. “I’ll do that as soon as I’ve gone and taken my laser cannon back,” he purred. “Unless you’d like to keep it? The price is only—”

“Aw, get out of here,” Lockdown interrupted. “You’ve taken enough of my money for one day.”

Swindle laughed. “Touché!” he said. “See ya ’round, Lockdown.”

Lockdown grunted and turned back to his work on his ship’s engine. Swindle smiled and sauntered back into the ship.

The con mech retrieved his laser cannon from where he’d left it and put it away in his transwarp storage compartment. He paused for a moment, although he wasn’t quite sure why he did. He could hear Stiletto’s breathing—ragged and shaky.

Swindle’s spark twisted in his chest. Just how upset _was_ Shockwave?

“Shockwave?” Swindle called quietly.

Stiletto said nothing—her harsh breathing abruptly ceased.

The con mech stayed quiet for a moment, thinking something over. He grimaced—he was probably going to regret this if he did it… But something told him he’d regret the alternative worse. At least, if this was what the ache in his spark was about, which it was seeming like now. And anyway, he had already gotten his money from Lockdown, hadn’t he?

Swindle padded over and crouched in front of the door.

Stiletto stared at him and slowly pulled her hands away from her damaged knee. “Have you come back to mock me?”

Swindle bit his lip. “Actually,” he said, and then he paused for a moment before speaking again “I’m deciding something.”

“And what might that be?” Stiletto asked. Now she just sounded tired.

Swindle’s mouth slowly curved into an apologetic smile. “The best way to carry you out of here.”

Stiletto’s optics widened.

**‡**

Lockdown mopped a spot of oil off of his forearm and walked back around his ship to the entrance hatch. It was in the middle of lowering when he got there. He stopped, arching one optic ridge.

Swindle walked casually down the ramp, whistling some sort of chipper tune. But that wasn’t all.

He was carrying Stiletto in his arms.

Lockdown’s jaw dropped. Then he snarled. _“Swindle!_ What the slag do you think you’re doin’‽”

Stiletto’s optics widened. He hissed something at Swindle urgently—Lockdown didn’t hear what it was, but it made the con mech smirk.

“Sorry, Lockdown, I just couldn’t resist—I _had_ to steal _something.”_ Swindle grinned nastily. “So I figured I might as well take the best piece of your collection!”

“You backstabbing conniver!” Lockdown growled, and he charged at Swindle.

“Whoop!” the con mech exclaimed, and he ducked under the bounty hunter’s swing. Stiletto clung more tightly to Swindle and aimed a hard blow with her elbow into Lockdown’s midsection where she’d stabbed before.

Lockdown choked. He staggered—he worked to draw a breath in, but his whole torso throbbed and his processor swam with the pain.

Swindle ducked out of the way as Lockdown crumpled to his knees. Then he landed a solid kick right where Stiletto had elbowed, just for good measure.

“Slaggers!” Lockdown gasped. He keeled to the side, clutching at his stomach.

“Sorry, Lockdown, but we can’t stay,” said Swindle. He rapidly backpedalled away from Lockdown. “Urgent business to take care of, you see!”

“You get back here, you backstabbing spawn of a glitch!” Lockdown growled. He forced himself to his knees and turned after Swindle. There was oil and energon leaking from behind the brace around his torso and his frame was shaking.

“Adios, Lockdown!” Swindle cried in glee. He broke into a sprint in the other direction. Stiletto clung onto Swindle with one hand and held her damaged knee with the other, trying to keep the joint from moving too much.

Lockdown shouted in frustration.

“Swindle!” he bellowed. “I’ll offline you for this! I sure could make good use of that private storage dimension of yours, do you hear me‽ _Do you hear me, you thieving glitch‽”_

**‡**

Aboard the _Prosperity,_ Swindle helped Stiletto into the seat she’d usually taken up until now before backing away to sit in the pilot’s seat himself. He started up the ship. They both were silent as Swindle piloted the _Prosperity_ away from Velocitron’s surface and into the planet’s orbit.

After a few minutes, Shockwave shifted into his natural frame. Swindle glanced over at Shockwave multiple times during the slow, careful process, but Shockwave ignored him for the moment. He had to be certain that he didn’t jar his damaged knee or put any weight on it during his shift; it could wreck the joint to the point of a full replacement, which was nigh impossible where a shifter was concerned. But despite the risk, Shockwave didn’t want to remain in his Stiletto form—in his natural frame-state, his damaged knee joint would be under much less pressure.

Once the _Prosperity_ was sitting safely in orbit above Velocitron, Swindle switched on the autopilot and sighed heavily. He slouched forwards and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Man, oh man, am I going to regret this,” he muttered.

Shockwave looked at him out of the corner of his optic. “Why do something so foolhardy when you know you’ll regret it?”

Swindle glanced over at Shockwave and shrugged. “For the same reason you apologized earlier,” he said. “I reconsidered.”

The spy gave Swindle a long look. “Despite the risk of sounding like a protoform, I’ll ask again. Why?”

Swindle groaned in frustration and rubbed his face with both hands. “Don’t make too much of it,” he scoffed. “I just realized having you around is pretty good for business after all.”

Shockwave’s gaze softened. “So does this mean that we’ll be traveling together again?”

Swindle smiled weakly. “Well, I wouldn’t mind that, exactly.”

“Neither would I,” said Shockwave. “In fact… I do believe I would quite enjoy that.”

Swindle’s smile grew. “Then where to next, hmm— _partner?”_


	11. Red and Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: DESCRIPTIVE SELF-SURGERY.

“Are you even qualified to be doing something like this?”

“Not technically, no. But I am quite capable regardless.”

Swindle stared at Shockwave, his optics wide. The shifter had propped up his injured leg on a table—somehow he was able to stand stably on his other leg still while doing so. Apparently he was planning to repair his damaged knee. By himself.

Without anesthetic.

While standing on one leg.

Swindle was flabbergasted.

“…Are you sure you don’t need any kind of—of help, or—”

“I will be perfectly all right on my own,” said Shockwave. He looked at Swindle expressionlessly (then again, any actual expressions he made were quite rare in his natural frame, it seemed) and continued, “Besides, your hands are too large for work this delicate.”

Swindle puffed himself up indignantly. “That’s rich, coming from a mech with gigantic knives for fingers.”

“I am quite good at precision work, I assure you,” Shockwave said dryly, turning his helm forward again. He adjusted the shallow basin he had placed beneath his knee and unfolded the small, soft towel lying next to it. “I will not experience any difficulty with this task. You, however, most assuredly would.”

Swindle scoffed and crossed his arms. “I’m a mech of many talents!” he declared. “I’m not nearly as clumsy as you seem to think—I’m very good with my hands!”

“Don’t you have a ship to be piloting?” asked Shockwave, the tone of his voice frigid.

“I have the autopilot turned on,” Swindle said, carelessly waving one hand through the air. “Don’t you need me to be available in case you need me to get a part for you or something?”

Shockwave’s optic narrowed. “…Perhaps.”

“Pfft. I’m offering my help, you ungrateful cyclops,” Swindle muttered under his breath. He slouched back into his seat and crossed his arms again.

“I am not ungrateful.”

Swindle snorted. “Sure seems like it!”

“This coming from the mech whose response to having his life saved was to evict me from his ship.”

“Oh, stuff it down your—” Swindle pulled up short. “Do you even have an intake?”

Shockwave sighed heavily, his optic shutting for a nanocycle or so. “Yes,” he said.

“Where?”

“That is an irrelevant detail,” said Shockwave. “Now if you would please stop distracting me, I should really get on with repairing my knee.”

Swindle huffed. “Don’t let me stop you.”

Shockwave nodded curtly. He held one of his hands up to look at it—Swindle looked as well, of course. The spy’s claws seemed to sharpen. Then he lowered his hand to his knee, hesitated for just a second, and sliced the joint open along the outside of the kneecap. Partially-congealed energon spilled from the wound in a burst, then dripped from it more sluggishly. Blackish smudges of oil lubricant slid along the top of the stream and pooled in swirls atop the energon in the tray containing it.

Swindle grimaced. He couldn’t help piping up again. “Doesn’t that hurt at all?”

“A lack of reaction to pain does not mean that the pain itself does not still exist,” said Shockwave. There was a tightness to his voice that hadn’t been there before. “If I flinch, I may cause more damage. I must not flinch, and so I do not.”

“Well, that’s some real iron will you’ve got there, then,” said Swindle. His own tone was strained with another kind of discomfort entirely.

Shockwave made a sound in the affirmative and reached for the towel. He used it to clean more excess oil and energon from the incision he’d made in his knee, then set it aside. “If this makes you uncomfortable, you are free to look elsewhere,” he said.

Swindle forced a laugh. “Who, me? I’m fine!”

Shockwave glanced at him, but made no other reply. He returned to his self-repair in silence.

The spy really was quite dexterous despite the size of his claws. It seemed the issue with Shockwave’s knee was a small support strut that had broken away from its juncture at the top and been bent downwards somehow. Shockwave removed the strut and held it up to the light to look at it. Then he set it aside, reached back into the incision in his knee, and dragged out another few small shards of metal that had impaled his fuel line and caused damage to it. Finally, he removed the upper portion of the broken strut.

“I will require a new support strut for this joint,” said Shockwave. “Type seventeen C. Tetrinite would be preferable, but titanium will also do temporarily.”

Swindle pried himself out of his seat. “I’ll see what I’ve got, but no promises,” he said. He walked away to the nearest storage hold.

Shockwave watched him go, then returned to his repairs. He sliced another incision into the other side of his knee, cut across the top, and peeled the metalmesh away from his kneecap. He siphoned out more of the oil-tainted energon that had pooled within the joint as it swelled. Some of that oil may have made it into his fuel lines, but it should be of a low enough quantity that it couldn’t do any harm.

Then Shockwave reached for the clamps sitting nearby on the table. He attached each clamp to the punctured fuel line in his knee so that there would no longer be any energon flow to the point where the line was damaged. The spy picked up the towel again and used it to mop up as much of the remaining leaked fluids in his knee that he could. He set the towel aside again and turned his attention to the punctures in his fuel line.

The line had a jagged, puckered hole torn into it. There were several small cuts in the line around the puncture as well, but none had gone all the way through. Shockwave squinted at the puncture. None of the material seemed to have been torn out. Shockwave gently pried the rubber of his fuel line back into place with the point of one claw so it was no longer pushed inwards. Once the rubber was all back in place, Shockwave carefully sealed the cracks and cuts in the material with liquid epoxy sealant.

The sound of pedesteps announced Swindle’s return.

“Good news!” Swindle announced. “I have the part you need! In fact, I have three of them— _and_ I have a special offer! Buy two, get one free!”

Shockwave sighed and set aside the bottle of epoxy sealant. He looked at Swindle out of the corner of his optic. “I am not buying the part, Swindle.”

Swindle blinked owlishly. “Sorry, then you don’t get it.” He shrugged.

Shockwave felt a twitch of irritation. “Do you want me to be entirely useless to you?”

Swindle frowned. “…I guess not…”

“Then give me the part for free. I only need one.”

Swindle thought quickly. He gave a long-suffering sigh. “All right, but only because I netted so much money from Lockdown over you,” he said. He walked up to Shockwave and held out one of the strut parts.

Shockwave plucked the piece from Swindle’s fingers and slotted it into his open knee. “Dare I ask how much that was?”

“That’s private financial information,” Swindle declared, setting his hands on his hips.

“I see,” Shockwave mused. He retrieved a small spot-welder from the table—Swindle wondered where the mech even _kept_ all these tiny little repair tools—and set about welding the support strut into place in his leg.

Swindle watched in fascination. It was disturbing, to be sure, but on the other hand… Well, it was incredibly interesting to watch Shockwave repair himself.

“That _has_ to be painful,” Swindle muttered, peering around Shockwave’s large forearm to watch the welding he was doing.

Shockwave said nothing. He merely finished his welding and drew his hand away. He set aside the welder and retrieved the epoxy sealant again. The spy pulled the metalmesh of his knee back into place and repaired the incisions he’d made with the sealant. Then he answered the mystery of where he was keeping these supplies by reaching into the canister at his left hip and retrieving a roll of bandaging tape. He wrapped several layers of the tape around his knee, then sealed that with a heavy amount of sealant as well.

“Well,” Swindle declared. _“That_ was fascinating.”

“Was it?” asked Shockwave. He left his leg propped up on the table still while he packed his medical supplies back into his hip canisters.

“I’ve never seen any bot repair their own injury before,” said Swindle.

“As a spy, it’s a useful skill to have,” said Shockwave. He carefully lifted his leg off the table and set his pede on the ground, then gently tested his weight on the limb. “Sometimes injuries are incurred that would be difficult to explain to a medic without suspicion. And oftentimes there are no medics available—like now.”

“Well, it makes sense,” said Swindle. He frowned slightly. “We could have gone back to Knock Out.”

“No,” Shockwave said firmly. He began cleaning up the table—some droplets of energon had splattered onto the surface, so he mopped them up with the towel he’d been using. “It would be too risky.”

“Whatever you say,” Swindle sighed. “But hey, on that topic—what do we do when we get to Dross?”

“We avoid Lockdown,” said Shockwave. “He’ll be hunting for us as soon as he’s repaired—and if I know anything about that mech, it’s that he doesn’t stay down for very long. He won’t think to look for us on Dross—it’s a terrible place to buy or sell, so it wouldn’t make sense for you to go there. We’ll only have to lie low there a little while until Lockdown is somewhere else in the galaxy.”

Swindle sighed heavily. “I was hoping you wouldn’t say anything like that.”

**‡**

Knock Out hummed softly to himself as he danced around the inside of his medical clinic. It was late (far, _far_ past closing time for most respectable clinics—not that his Decepticon-friendly clinic was particularly respectable) and he was cleaning the place up.

A heavy knock sounded on the door. Knock Out yelped and whirled around, staring at the door with one hand over his sparkchamber.

“Oh, _really,”_ the red medic huffed. “At _this_ hour? I still haven’t gotten to buff myself yet!”

Knock Out set his cleaning supplies and strode to the door. He opened it and looked up into a face he knew quite well.

“Knock Out,” said the mech standing there. He was clutching at his stomach with his one hand. His other forearm was braced against the doorframe. “Got a moment?”

Knock Out smiled grimly. The assorted fluids dripping from his patient’s frame were going to ruin all of the work he had just done on cleaning his floors but he could hardly say no.

“Why, certainly, Lockdown.”


	12. Money Laundering

Shockwave regarded Swindle with a mildly baffled expression. The smaller mech’s mood had made a complete 180 since the last time he was out of his quarters. Swindle _had_ been going on about how terrible Dross was—it was _‘a useless little rust ball, good for slag, with no black market, the law shoved up its aft, and barely a Shanix half piece to be found anywhere’_ —but now he was grinning widely as he brought the _Prosperity_ down for a landing.

“You seem excited,” the cycloptic mech commented.

“I am,” said Swindle.

Shockwave stared at him. “You were quite displeased with the idea of spending any time on Dross earlier.”

“Well, that was before I decided to treat this like a vacation.” Swindle checked the _Prosperity’s_ sensors and gently settled the ship onto the landing pad.

“A vacation,” Shockwave echoed, his tone unamused. Then he sighed and shifted his frame, limbs receding and features altering until she was back in her Stiletto form. “I have never been a fan of vacations.”

Swindle laughed. “I’m not surprised,” he said, standing up. “Are you going to stay on the ship?”

Stiletto frowned slightly, then rose to her pedes. “I’ll come with you,” she said. “I have to walk on this knee for the welds to heal correctly.”

With a huge grin sliding onto his face, Swindle looped an arm around one of Stlietto’s and pulled her along to the exit hatch of the ship. “Try to enjoy yourself, then!”

“I won’t make any promises,” Stiletto said dryly, pulling her arm away from Swindle.

**‡**

Dross’ sprawling cities were its one claim to fame. Swindle had never been there before—why would he, when he knew there was no black market to be found anywhere on the entire planet? But now that he _was_ there, he was starting to appreciate the place—if only a little. The buildings _were_ quite impressive. And it did help that only a bare few of the inhabitants were any taller or larger than Swindle was.

Stiletto was less enthused by far. She cast her optics about searchingly, but she was quiet for the most part. She walked slightly behind Swindle. She only took any visible interest in a few holographic displays around the city—public notices from the Drossian enforcers.

In contrast, Swindle had a grin on his face that wouldn’t stay down; Stiletto could see it every time Swindle turned his head. And then the con mech stalled suddenly. Stiletto stopped as well to avoid running into him.

“Look there!” Swindle gasped. He pointed excitedly.

Stiletto looked, but saw nothing to warrant such exuberance. “…What, exactly, am I to be looking at?”

Swindle grinned. “They’re having a special!”

Stiletto peered at the sign Swindle had indicated—one for a small restaurant advertising a sale.

“A couple’s special,” the spy said tersely. “And?”

All but jittering in place, Swindle explained, “Well, it’s getting around time to refuel, isn’t it? We could get our energon cheaper here!”

Stiletto frowned. “We’re not a couple,” she said.

Swindle waved one hand and scoffed dismissively. “Oh, come on, now. They don’t have to know that!”

The spy lowered her optic shutters in an unamused expression. “You’ll do anything for money, won’t you? Even the most ridiculous, cliché things don’t phase you.”

“Well, it’s for a good cause,” Swindle said pompously. “And that cause is my bottom line.” He grinned. “So? Come on, you _do_ owe me for that joint support strut…”

Stiletto decided it would be better just to humor Swindle—he would complain otherwise, and Stiletto wasn’t keen on listening to that. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt anything, and Swindle _was_ right about the time. Stiletto sighed. “All right,” she said. “We’ll do it your way.”

Swindle looked more excited than Shockwave had ever seen him. He slung one arm around Stiletto’s waist and pulled her into the restaurant with the biggest, smuggest grin of all time on his face. Stiletto did her best not to react to the contact.

**‡**

Sitting across from Swindle at the small, two bot booth was… strange. Stiletto kept playing idly with the straw in her cube of energon. She hadn’t had any of it yet; she wasn’t eager to make the effort. She felt awkward and out of place. Her spark twinged. This whole situation reminded her of times long past—times she had shut out of her processor for thousands of stellar cycles.

Swindle, on the other hand, seemed to be totally and completely comfortable with all of this. He kept up a steady stream of idle chatter—talking vaguely about various business deals he’d made over the cycles. Stiletto had to do little more than hum and nod in the right places, smile fondly, and keep her optics on Swindle. It wasn’t hard to do—until Swindle changed the topic.

“You know, you should actually have some of that,” Swindle said, waving a hand at Stiletto’s cube.

Stiletto sat up a little straighter and cast a distasteful look at the cube. “As I’m sure I’ve told you at least once before,” she said, “I don’t like to drink my energon in public.”

Swindle frowned—then just as quickly smirked. “Awful suspicious not to drink your energon when you’re sitting in a restaurant with your _partner,”_ he said smugly.

Stiletto stiffened. “I suppose you’re right,” she muttered. She made herself have a drink of her energon through the straw and forced herself not to shudder.

Swindle looked faintly disappointed. To cover it, he sipped his own cube. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“It was,” said Stiletto. She forced down another drink. “I’m not used to…” The spy side glanced the nearest patrons of the restaurant—they were several paces away, but one could never be too careful—and dropped her voice. “To having a mouth.”

Swindle blinked. “Shouldn’t you be?”

Stiletto looked blankly back at him. “No.”

Swindle stared, then shrugged. “Oh well. Anyway, as I was saying about that bot on Nebulos…”

When Swindle was done rambling—which was a few moments past the end of both their energon cubes—the pair stood. “Well, that was fun,” said Swindle. “Now we have to pay, though…”

“Just remember, you’re saving money,” said Stiletto, just daring to put a faintly teasing tone into her voice. “Excuse me for a moment.”

She ignored Swindle’s questioning look and slipped away to the maintenance room.

Once out of view, Stiletto took a moment to stretch her limbs for just a cycle. Then she shuddered in disgust, took a handful of a strong cleanser from beside the sink, and washed her mouth out thoroughly. With the slick, oily texture of energon washed away, Stiletto felt much better.

Stiletto huffed and turned to leave the maintenance room. But as she reached the door, she heard a hushed, conspiring voice and stilled.

It was mumbled—muffled through the door—but well honed instinct told Stiletto she should listen. The spy’s sensory antennae slid out and extended to jut upwards from the sides of her helm, and she pressed herself back against the wall that the maintenance room door would swing in against. With her antennae extended, Stiletto could hear the voice more clearly.

“—ell you, this chit’s been laundered,” said one voice. “All this, see? ’S fake.”

Another scoffed. “You go keep that Decepticon from leaving. I’ll call the enforcers.”

Stiletto snapped her antennae back into their disguised position and pulled open the maintenance room door. As quickly as she dared without looking suspicious, she returned to Swindle.

Swindle grinned. “Back from the—”

Stiletto leaned in to speak into Swindle’s audial. “We have to leave,” she muttered. For the benefit of any bots watching, she slid a hand up Swindle’s chestplate so it wouldn’t seem so suspicious. They _were_ supposed to be a couple, after all. _“Now.”_

Swindle stared at the hand on his chestplate like he couldn’t believe it was really there. “…Why?”

Stiletto glanced up and noticed another bot approaching quickly. She grabbed Swindle’s hand and pulled him to the exit of the restaurant. Swindle spluttered in surprise, but he did follow.

“ ’Scuse me!” called the bot. His voice confirmed that he was one of the mechs Stiletto had heard from the maintenance room. “Sir, there’s been a problem with the chit you gave me!”

“What?” Swindle cried. “There’s no way—”

“Swindle, _move,”_ Stiletto hissed urgently. “Before the enforcers get here!”

Swindle’s optics widened and he gasped, _“Oh.”_ Then he yelled over his shoulder something so uncharacteristic Stiletto never would have believed she’d heard it if not for the situation at hand. “Sorry, keep the change!”

Stiletto shoved the door open and pulled Swindle through it.

They ran.

“Scrap, they’re gettin’ away!” cried the other mech inside.

Stiletto dragged Swindle through the crowds of shorter Drossian bots as fast as she could make herself run on her weak knee. They stuck out like sore digits among all these littler mechs and femmes.

The distinct snap _boom_ shot of a pulse cannon split the air between the two fleeing Decepticons. Swindle yelped and screeched to a halt. Stiletto’s grip on Swindle’s hand caused her to be jerked back into the con mech’s chestplate with a clang and a forced exhale.

The crowd of smaller bots squealed and peeled away in front of them. Two Drossian enforcers stood there in the center of the street. One had his pulse cannon aimed at them; the other had two pairs of stasis cuffs held akimbo at his sides. Stiletto hastily stepped away to Swindle’s side.

“You know what time it is, con mech?” growled the enforcer with the pulse cannon, pointing the weapon at Swindle’s helm.

“Ahhh…” Swindle looked around frantically. “Oh, yes—I remember! Time to _run!”_ he exclaimed. He grabbed Stiletto’s wrist and booked it down a nearby alley, the enforcers yelling curses after them.

Stiletto stumbled after Swindle. “This is only going to make things worse!”

“Not if we get away!” protested the con mech. He pulled Stiletto into a perpendicular alleyway. Another hard, cracking _boom_ rocked through the air and pummeled the spy’s frame—she gasped and stumbled through her turn because of it. Only Swindle’s pulling kept Stiletto from crashing to the ground at the concussive force.

“That may be easier said than done,” Stiletto wheezed.

Swindle made a frustrated noise, then hauled Stiletto out of the alley and onto a street. Several smaller bots squawked and scrambled out of the way.

“Split up,” Stiletto barked. Then she shoved Swindle in the direction that would lead him to the Prosperity more quickly and ran the other way.

Swindle yelped and faltered. But then he muttered a harsh cuss under his breath, transformed, and floored it.

It took a mere three cycles for Swindle to get back to the ship. His rear view mirrors showed him that the enforcer with the cannon had tried to follow him, but Swindle left him in his dust.

The con mech transformed and skidded on his pedes beneath his ship. “What is with all the _running_ lately?” he gasped to himself, sounding offended even to his own audials. He opened the _Prosperity’s_ hatch and hurried inside to start the engines.

Another moment later, Shockwave boarded the ship as well. The hatch shut behind him.

“What in the AllSpark gave you the idea that _Dross_ was a good place to use forged credit chits for payment?” the spy asked, sliding into his seat. His tone made it clear he was far from amused.

“Well, I’m not exactly a _legal_ arms dealer,” Swindle harrumphed, guiding the _Prosperity_ off the ground. “What did you expect?”

“Don’t you have _any_ legal Shanix?” Shockwave scoffed.

“Maybe, if I go hunting for a few hours, I _might_ find a couple hundred.” Swindle frowned and held a deeper breath to try and calm his vents, then steered the _Prosperity_ up into the sky.

“Regardless, we are never doing that again,” Shockwave said firmly.

Swindle could do nothing but nod in reply. The pair were silent for a while, but then Shockwave spoke up again.

“So much for avoiding Lockdown by staying on Dross,” he said. “We won’t be able to do that now.”

Swindle frowned. “Don’t rub it in.”


	13. On Sale Now

“Dross, huh? Interesting choice…”

Lockdown smirked to himself and tapped a series of keys on his ship’s console to shrink and mute the news feed he was watching. “Clever trick. But it won’t work again.”

The bounty hunter zoomed his galactic map view in a little and started scanning the area around Dross with his optics. Where might Swindle and Shockwave try to hide next…?

Lockdown smirked and zoomed in further on a familiar planet. “Now, _this_ one is fascinatingly close by…”

**‡**

Swindle paced the bridge of the Prosperity with a frown on his face. Shockwave was both in his own quarters and on Swindle’s processor—something the con mech wasn’t so sure he liked, but there it was.

Shockwave _was_ dangerous to have around, wasn’t he? It wasn’t like Swindle had been recharging poorly—he always recharged lightly, so he would know if Shockwave had tried to do anything to him during the artificial down-cycle he’d set up in the _Prosperity’s_ systems. But there was still something crawling in the back of Swindle’s processor, some feeling about the spy.

Swindle was more than half-tempted to take Shockwave in for his hefty bounty himself—double the payoff on one high-bounty mech was such a sweet thought to entertain! And it would make irrelevant the strange feeling about Shockwave that he couldn’t pin down. But Swindle remembered the awful scraping feeling in his spark from the time he had kicked Shockwave off his ship. He’d never put a name to it or learned what it had meant, but it returned in smaller measure when he thought about turning on Shockwave like that.

“Ugh, confusing…” Swindle muttered, He rubbed his face with one hand, settling the other at his hip.

The con mech’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of pedesteps—not quite as heavy as they perhaps should have been. Swindle stopped his pacing and looked over at Shockwave with a tired expression.

“I have decided upon a destination,” said Shockwave. He was holding a datapad in one hand and working on it with the other. “It is my hope that Lockdown will not think to follow us there.”

Swindle sighed. “Yeah?” He turned to face Shockwave with crossed arms. “Where?”

“Earth,” said Shockwave.

 _“Earth‽”_ Swindle exclaimed. His jaw dropped open and simply hung for a nanocycle or two before he was able to properly respond. “Ooooh no. I am _not_ going back to that infernal mudball. Not after what happened the last time! Those humans wanted to strip me for spare parts! They wanted to _sell_ me at an _auction!”_

“Swindle,” Shockwave said firmly, and he slotted his datapad into the massive pauldron of his left shoulder. “I will lock you into your quarters and fly this ship there myself if you won’t. I _must_ visit Earth.”

Swindle expelled a heavy, put-upon sigh and slumped into the _Prosperity’s_ pilot seat.

**‡**

The _Prosperity_ set down gently in a large clearing cut from one of Earth’s forests. Swindle huffed irritably and shut the engines down. Shockwave stood from his seat and shifted into his Stiletto frame.

“You may remain on the ship,” said the spy.

“I was planning on it.”

Stiletto regarded Swindle silently for a moment, then nodded. “I will return when I have finished here.” She strode out of the ship, assumed her disguise altmode—a treaded Cybertronian all terrain vehicle—and sped towards the human city of Detroit.

Swindle leaned his crossed arms onto the ship’s console and rested his chin atop them. He watched Stiletto go with a heavy sigh.

**‡**

The Autobot embassy was a large, two storey building (although it was easily the height of six storeys by human standards) with an arc driveway in the front of it. In the center of the small courtyard created by the driveway stood a statue of a mech whose name Stiletto seemed to remember was something like Prowl. There was a bird’s nest in the statue’s outstretched hand. Stiletto resisted the urge to linger and examine the oddity—she instead transformed back into her bipedal form and walked up to the front door of the building.

Stiletto could not possibly have been more comfortable around Autobots unless she had been an Autobot herself. Longarm Prime may have been retired, but that didn’t mean Shockwave’s experience with Autobots had.

So when the bot in disguise strolled easily up to the front desk where none other than Bumblebee sat, legs up and a handheld device of some sort in his hands, the gentle smile she put on was easily faked.

“Hello,” said Stiletto.

Bumblebee yelped and quickly set the device aside. He pressed a button to switch the display of his terminal monitor and turned to Stiletto with an eager grin. “Hello, hello!” he replied. “Man, I was actually getting bored of that game by now—can you believe that? So, now that you’re here, what can I do for ya?”

Stiletto blinked. “I’ve just come from Cybertron,” she said. “I would like to book an appointment with… Optimus Prime?”

“You don’t need to—he’s free now. Gimme a sec,” said Bumblebee. He vaulted out of his seat and dashed through a doorway with a yell of, “Yo, boss bot!”

Stiletto crossed her arms, looked around, and waited, rolling her plan over in her processor one last time to be sure there would be no issues. There was a risk, of course; Earth was unfamiliar. But she had faith in this strategy.

A moment later, Bumblebee returned leading Optimus Prime. “Boss bot, this is—uh—”

“Stiletto,” the spy supplied. She smiled at the Prime and held her hand out. “I… understand the custom when meeting someone on this planet is to… shake hands?”

Optimus returned Stiletto’s false smile with a genuine one of his own and shook the disguised bot’s hand. “Yes. It’s a human custom,” he explained. “What can I do for you, Stiletto?”

“Well, I was hoping to speak with you about a business matter,” lied Stiletto. She watched Bumblebee leap back into his seat and covertly resume what appeared to be a game of some sort.

“A business matter?” echoed Optimus. “What kind of business matter?”

“Just a little one bot company I’d like to open. I don’t think I could run it on Cybertron, what with all the competition,” said Stiletto. “Would you mind if we walked while we discuss this? I’ve never been on Earth before, and I would rather like to see it.”

“Of course,” Optimus said with another smile. He led Stiletto out of the embassy’s front doors. “So tell me Stiletto, what kind of business was it you wanted to discuss?”

**‡**

Optimus Prime was hopelessly easy to fool. Stiletto only had to spin her lies about a business she wanted to run and walk with him until there were no other bots or humans in sight—and because it was only early morning, that wasn’t very long at all. Then, when Optimus turned to point out some feature of Detroit city, Stiletto shifted her forearms and hands, grabbed the Prime’s neck from behind, and knocked him unconscious with a well placed jolt of electricity.

Optimus sagged without even a sound of surprise. Stiletto returned her hands and arms to their disguised form and dragged the unconscious Prime into an alleyway. She affixed a small signal blocker to him so the Autobots wouldn’t be able to trace them, then dragged him away behind her disguise altmode on a length of chain.

Stiletto continued until she reached the edge of the city. Then Shockwave returned to his natural root mode, hefted Optimus in one arm, and proceeded on foot until he was surrounded by trees as far as the optic could see.

“Now then, Autobot,” murmured Shockwave, a dark, menacing tone in his voice. “You’re going to tell me which part of Trypticon Prison Megatron was moved to.”

Wiring himself into Optimus Prime’s processor was almost too simple. Even without the tools of a laboratory at hand, Shockwave knew his way around mechs’ mental hardware like Swindle knew his way around a shady deal. Without better equipment, he would have to settle for a fuzzy, compressed, and incomplete memory playback, but it would do.

Shockwave shut his optic and immersed himself in it.

_Optimus Prime was called to Cybertron to be involved with the moving of Megatron from one prison cell to another. His presence was merely a publicity stunt; he wasn’t even involved with really moving the mech. He just walked with the Autobots who really were moving Megatron._

_They took him from the cell he shared with Shockwave—_

Shockwave’s immersion nearly broke. He forced the struggle of his own processor down and returned to Optimus’.

_—and down, down four floors and then around a corner and along a hallway. Megatron was silent. So were the Autobots rolling the dolly he was propped up on. They took him to another turbolift at the end of the hall and down even further. All the way to the bottom floor—a key code was pressed in and then the lights of the lift lit red. It slid further down still._

Shockwave committed the code to his memory bank before the memory progressed any further.

_The turbolift door slid open. There was a large, round room—and opposite the lift was a single, solitary cell with energy lining the interior. Megatron was maneuvered into it and Optimus stepped forward to shut it._

Shockwave pulled back out of the memory. He deleted all of Optimus’ memory-bank data back to a few cycles before he had knocked him unconscious, then disconnected himself from the Prime. Once all of the wires were completely removed, Shockwave heaved Optimus’ unconscious chassis onto the ground and stood up.

“Now, is _that_ any way to treat the head of human-Autobot diplomacy?”

The voice made Shockwave freeze up. He completely stilled his non-essential systems in an effort to pinpoint where it had come from.

“You look spooked, Shockwave,” purred Lockdown. The sound seemed to bounce somehow, impossible to pinpoint.

Shockwave turned on the spot, frantically searching the area with his optic blown wide. “Where are you, you infernal bounty hunter?”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is where you’re going to be soon—which is prison.”

A heavy blow landed in the small of Shockwave’s back. With a cry of pain, he pitched forward and slammed into the ground. He stayed still and focused on what the sensory input from his antennae was telling him.

Lockdown was approaching him from behind and to the left. Shockwave heaved himself off the ground and struck out with one leg. It connected solidly with some part of the bounty hunter’s chestplate and he crashed to the forest floor with a surprised yelp.

Shockwave slung himself upright and dropped into a defensive crouch, staring wide-optic’d at the place he knew Lockdown should be. He wasn’t there—there was only a bot-shaped depress in the plant life where he should have been.

“How’d you do that, you lousy glitch?” Lockdown snarled. The plants decompressed and Shockwave backed away a few steps.

“Luck, I suppose,” Shockwave lied. He wasn’t about to let Lockdown in on the many uses his sensory antennae had. He might start wanting them—and that was something Lockdown _would_ be able to take and use himself.

There was the sound of a weapon of some sort powering up. Shockwave turned and ran, well aware of the fact that even he couldn’t fight a bot with a cloak _and_ the weapons Lockdown likely possessed. Not on his own.

“Swindle, dearest,” he gasped into his comm. He ducked around a large tree and a blast from Lockdown’s weapon narrowly missed him. “I _desperately_ require assistance.”

Across the comm, Swindle made a surprised noise. «Wait a nanocycle— _dearest?»_

Shockwave made a frustrated sound and snapped, “Never mind that. If you’re here in under three cycles there will be compensation.” He hastily sent his coordinates and his planned trajectory across the line.

A scrambling noise sounded through the comm. «I’ll be there!»

Shockwave cut the comm and turned to check for any sign of Lockdown. Something slammed into his faceplate and he landed hard on his back on the ground yet again. This time his vision fritzed and went out.

“Stay down, Shockwave,” growled Lockdown. The muzzle of a rifle prodded into Shockwave’s throat.


	14. But Wait, There’s More!

Shockwave stayed very, very still. Lockdown’s cannon pressed heavily into his throat. The stasis cuffs Lockdown had put onto his wrists (without ever moving that rifle away from his throat) made his systems crawl with static and kept him from moving.

“I suppose you’ll want to gloat now,” said Shockwave. His vocalizer was restricted enough by the pressure of the rifle’s muzzle that it put a strange buzzing tone into his voice.

“Not until I’ve dealt with Swindle,” the bounty hunter laughed. “I didn’t expect _you_ of all mechs to comm for backup. And I didn’t expect you to still be working with him, either. Is it because he’s your _dearest?”_

“That is none of your concern.” Shockwave tried to sound menacing, but his constrained vocalizer was barely forming sound to begin with.

Lockdown laughed. “Didn’t expect that one either, I gotta admit.” He pressed a little harder with the rifle. The spy coughed and squeezed his non-functioning optic shut. It wasn’t doing any good to keep it open anyway. Lockdown was invisible and the connection between Shockwave’s processor and his optical sensor seemed to have been damaged.

A moment passed where neither spoke.

“That’s two cycles,” Lockdown said after a moment. “Not too long before Swindle is late to the—”

A sharp crack split the air. Lockdown yelped and the pressure fell away from Shockwave’s throat to one side.

From the opposite side, the spy picked out a voice. “Really, a stealth cloak? Lockdown, Lockdown, Lockdown—that’s so last stellar cycle! What you need is something flashier—I have a fantastic price on the newest weapons and shields, if you want to have a look!”

“You talk too much, Swindle,” Lockdown snarled.

“Maybe so!” The con mech laughed. “Hmph. Well, even if you won’t look at my wares—I can still see you!”

“How?” Shockwave scoffed. “He’s completely invisible.”

“Depth perception, Shockwave,” said Swindle. “You should try it some—”

Lockdown leapt at Swindle and tackled him to the ground. Swindle yelped and rolled.

Shockwave wished he could see what was happening. The blurry, imprecise pictures he was able to get from his sensory antennae were hardly comparable to having his vision. He knew the other two bots were scuffling and he knew Swindle was likely to lose, but he had no idea what was going on beyond that.

The spy focused on his stasis cuffs. He just needed to find the amperage that would turn them off, and then…

Shockwave sent a pulse of charge through his talons. The stasis cuffs fell away and he stood, swaying slightly.

“What‽” Lockdown gasped. “How—”

Swindle clocked the bounty hunter in the face. There was a flurry of motion and clanging sounds.

Shockwave struggled to determine what was going on. His optic was wide open, but he couldn’t see. The spy forcefully rebooted his optical systems. His vision did come back. It was fuzzy and uncolored, but at least he could see—Swindle was on his front with his head pulled back so far it looked like he was having difficulty breathing, scrabbling at the ground with both hands. It seemed logical that Lockdown was pinning him down.

Shockwave retrieved his plasma cannon from his subspace and fired at the air above Swindle.

Lockdown yelped. His stealth cloak broke apart as he fell away from Swindle, his hook slipping away from around the con mech’s neck. His rifle clattered to the ground beside him.

Swindle scrambled to his pedes and quickly backed away from Lockdown, gasping and clutching at his throat with one hand. “Thanks for the save,” he panted. “But I thought I was supposed to be helping you.”

“Mutual assistance can be quite beneficial,” said Shockwave. He extended the arm of his free hand, grabbed Swindle by the shoulder, and hauled him towards himself, further away from Lockdown.

Swindle made a surprised sound and nearly tripped over his own pedes. “Hey, a little warning!”

“I’ve finished what I needed to do here,” said Shockwave, ignoring Swindle’s complaint. “We should make haste to depart.”

“Oh no you don’t!” Lockdown growled. He was standing too now, pointing his energy rifle at Shockwave and Swindle.

This time, Shockwave was more prepared for the blast that slammed into him. While he was still blown backwards, he managed to catch himself on a pair of trees and stay upright. His claws left deep gouges in the wood of both trees and his next breath came in a pained rasp.

Swindle retaliated with a shot of his own weapon.

Hard scattershot dug into Lockdown’s frame and the trees all around him. The bounty hunter gritted his dentae and had to lean against one of them for support just as Shockwave had. He tried to fire his rifle again, but it was damaged and wouldn’t work. Furiously, Lockdown tossed it aside.

“Am I ever glad I picked up another scatter blaster on Elba!” Swindle declared.

“This is hardly the time to gloat over your purchases,” Shockwave gasped. “Where is the ship?”

Swindle blinked at him. “Two cycles that way,” he said, and he pointed.

“Too bad you won’t make it that far!”

Despite his damage, Lockdown rushed at the other two, the chainsaw of his left forearm roaring. Swindle hastily ducked aside.

Shockwave grabbed Lockdown by the elbow and threw him aside. He looked at Swindle. “Do you still have the Ghennix laser pistol you bought on Elpasos?” he demanded.

Swindle blinked. “Uh—yes, I do, but—”

“Hand it over.”

“What‽” Swindle exclaimed. “Hey, this thing is expensive!”

Shockwave made a frustrated sound and held out his hand impatiently. “I’ll give it back when I’ve finished with it,” he said. “Stop stalling!”

Swindle _did_ stall for half a klik, but then he hastily groped around in his storage compartment for the laser pistol. “Have at it, then!” he declared, and he shoved the pistol into Shockwave’s hand.

Shockwave aimed the pistol for the approaching bounty hunter’s optics and fired. Lockdown let out an alarmed cry—his chainsaw arm shifted back to normal and he clawed at his face. “What did you do‽” he shouted. “I can’t see!”

Shockwave regarded Swindle expressionlessly and handed the pistol back to him. “You should trust me.”

Swindle stashed the laser pistol in his storage compartment with a huff. He hadn’t known it could do that. “Mm’yeah. I guess so.”

“Get over here and fight!” Lockdown yelled.

“That won’t last long,” Shockwave muttered. “Let’s go.”

He and Swindle hastily returned to the _Prosperity._

**‡**

As the _Prosperity_ arced up and away from Earth’s atmosphere, the whole ship lurched. Shockwave had been halfway to sitting in his seat, and it knocked him off balance. He ended up sprawled on the floor awkwardly with his legs kicked up, one over the arms of his seat and the other splayed out along the floor.

“What was that?” Shockwave gasped.

Swindle looked at Shockwave and laughed, but then the ship lurched again and he cursed. He pulled open a viewscreen on the ship’s windshield and grimaced. “Lockdown is following us,” he said. “You weren’t kidding about that blinding trick not lasting very long!”

Shockwave pried himself off the floor and got into his seat. “Does this ship have weapons systems?”

“Are you kidding?” Swindle snapped. “I stole it from some other merchant bot! Of course it doesn’t!”

“Then we’ll have to out-fly him,” said Shockwave.

“Out-fly _Lockdown?”_ cried Swindle. “You’re crazy! The _Death’s Head_ is definitely faster than this ship!”

Shockwave stood and adjusted the plasma cannon still affixed to his forearm. “Head for this stellar system’s asteroid belt,” he said, walking to the aft of the ship. “Go directly through the densest part of it you can find. I’ll keep Lockdown busy.”

“Definitely crazy!” Swindle muttered, but he pointed the _Prosperity_ for the asteroid belt and pushed the ship’s accelerator to maximum anyway.

Shockwave sealed the _Prosperity’s_ airlock door behind him and lowered the exit hatch. He walked to the end of it, hunkered down, and held tight to one of the extender struts for support, then aimed his cannon at Lockdown’s ship and opened fire on him. The red spacecraft’s course shifted. The change in trajectory slowed it, so Shockwave kept firing. Lockdown fired back. He aimed for the _Prosperity’s_ engines.

“Swindle, put this ship into overdrive!” Shockwave ordered over comm.

«It _is_ in overdrive!»

Shockwave groaned and aimed his cannon at the _Death’s Head’s_ main guns. He tried to hit them, but the high speeds of both ships and the _Death’s Head’s_ shifting trajectory made them hard to hit. At the very least, though, Lockdown couldn’t aim his ship’s guns very well at these speeds either.

Miraculously, although the _Prosperity_ suffered a good deal of exterior damage, the engines remained intact.

«Get back in the ship, Shockwave,» Swindle called. «We’re at the asteroid belt. You don’t want to get knocked off into space!»

“Very true,” Shockwave agreed. He hastened back into the _Prosperity’s_ interior and closed the hatch. He slid his plasma cannon back into his subspace and returned to the front of the ship.

Another blast from one of the _Death’s Head’s_ guns rocked the ship and sent Shockwave tripping into the back of Swindle’s seat. He hastily moved to his own seat. “Go through to the left,” he ordered. “Stay close to the smaller asteroid.”

“Are you sure?”

“As sure as Unicron’s destructive tendencies.”

Swindle swallowed nervously and obeyed. He guided the _Prosperity_ around the asteroid as closely as he could.

Shockwave flicked his gaze between the ship’s front view and the screen bearing a rear view. The _Death’s Head,_ too large to fit so closely between the asteroids, was caught and damaged on them and lost its speed.

Swindle wound the _Prosperity_ around another couple of asteroids to break free of the asteroid belt. Once they were clear of it, Swindle sighed heavily and flicked the _Prosperity’s_ autopilot on.

“Well, _that_ was unnecessarily exciting,” he said.

Shockwave hummed in agreement. He moved his hands from the arms of his seat to his lap—Swindle looked over and noticed there were scrapes in the paint where Shockwave had been gripping.

“Most unpleasant,” Shockwave said.

Swindle nodded. “I see that,” he said. Shockwave glanced over, then followed Swindle’s gaze.

“…Ah. I apologize for the damage.”

“Ah, the _Prosperity’s_ been though worse,” Swindle dismissed. “I’d rather a little paint damage than an impact with an asteroid, that’s for sure.”

“A very good point,” said Shockwave, and he leaned back in his seat. He stared silently out the _Prosperity’s_ front windshield as the stars flew past.

Swindle rebooted his vocalizer and shifted in his seat. “Sooo… What was all that about earlier?”

Shockwave turned his helm. “I required certain information,” he said. “Optimus Prime was the only mech off of Cybertron in possession of that information. Therefore, I—”

“No, no, no,” Swindle interrupted, waving his hands to cut Shockwave off. “…Well, that _does_ explain why I almost ran him over before. But I mean the other thing.”

“What other thing, Swindle?” Shockwave sighed.

“You, ah…” Swindle steepled his fingers. “You called me dearest.”

Shockwave turned his helm away again. “…Ah. That. I apologize. It simply slipped out. It won’t happen again.”

Swindle offered a small, half-sure smile. “Well, you know,” he said, “I didn’t mind.”

Shockwave stared at him in surprise.

**‡**

Optimus Prime groaned as he came online. He sat up, rubbed his helm, and looked around. Confused, he frowned and opened a comm.

“Optimus to base. We… We might have a problem. But I’m not sure what.”


	15. Another Day, Another Dollar

“Well, I mean, I didn’t expect it at all,” Swindle hastened to add. “Who would, am I right? I mean, no offense, but you don’t seem the type to—you know.”

“Swindle,” said Shockwave. He raised one hand in a ‘stop’ motion, then set it on the arm of his seat. “I am quite aware of that. Please stay on topic and explain what you meant by… Not minding it.”

Swindle laughed nervously. “Well, situation aside, it almost seemed like you were flirting with me.”

Bluntly, Shockwave replied, “I wasn’t.”

Swindle huffed. “I know that!” he said. “But before that, I was thinking—and what I was thinking about combined with you saying that all of a sudden made me realize something.”

“And what would that be?” asked Shockwave.

Swindle steeled himself quickly. “I’m interested in you,” he said.

Shockwave stared. “…You would not be the first to think me worthy of scrutiny,” he said slowly.

Swindle groaned. “That’s not what I mean,” he said. “I mean… I want… Okay, so I’m not in love with you or anything, but I guess—I want a relationship with you. And I don’t mean a business relationship, although the one we’ve got now is pretty good, and I do want to keep it.” He shrugged weakly and grinned sheepishly back into Shockwave’s blank stare. “It’s… It’s something, anyway.”

Shockwave audibly rebooted his vocalizer. “I see,” he said slowly, and he averted his optic.

Swindle blinked. Was the larger mech actually embarrassed? He hoped so— _he_ sure was. But he just stared; what was he supposed to say back to that now?

In reality, however, the spy was simply considering his options. He’d had relationships in past, and they were always so inconvenient in the end. But Swindle already knew who Shockwave really was. It made things completely different this time around.

“…I would not be opposed to the idea,” Shockwave finally said.

Swindle did a double take. Then he grinned. “You wouldn’t?”

“No,” said Shockwave. “I wouldn’t.” He looked back at Swindle hesitantly. “In fact, I would say the desire is mutual.”

Swindle grinned even wider. “Well, then that’s great!” he exclaimed. “So, does that make us a couple?”

“Answer me one thing first,” said Shockwave. He leaned slightly closer to Swindle, his optic shutter lowering a little. “Why?”

“Why what?” asked Swindle. He couldn’t help leaning a little himself—he braced his elbow on the arm of his seat to support himself on.

“It should be obvious enough what I’m asking,” Shockwave said flatly. “Why the interest? What is it you see in me, Swindle?”

Swindle shrugged and waved his free hand idly. “I don’t know, exactly.” Frowning, he continued, “I _do_ know I get this weird feeling when I do something that causes you trouble… And I do like having you around…”

Shockwave hummed thoughtfully. “Answer enough, I suppose,” he murmured. He reached to caress Swindle’s cheek with the back of one claw and added, “I would be glad to call you a romantic partner.”

Swindle grinned and leaned into the attention. “As well as a business partner?”

Shockwave half-shuttered his optic in a way that almost looked amused. “But of course.”

**‡**

There was no immediate change in their relationship—not that Swindle noticed, at least. He hadn’t really expected there to be (after all, his new partner was _Shockwave!),_ but he had sort of hoped a little. On the other hand, though, he was also somewhat relieved. Swindle wasn’t normally the sort to enter into a real relationship, and he needed time to get his processor in order.

It seemed Shockwave did as well. He’d retired to his quarters megacycles ago to do… Whatever it was he did in there. The few times Swindle had gone to get the spy from his quarters, he’d always been tapping away at his datapad. Swindle had never seen Shockwave recharge, or even take stasis naps. He supposed it was a shifter thing. And if not that, it must be a Shockwave thing.

Maybe that was part of the appeal—Shockwave was strange and fascinating.

And then there were his legs, of course, but Swindle hadn’t wanted to admit something that shallow.

But regardless, Swindle was in a very good mood now, even though he did still ache a little from fighting with Lockdown. He hummed to himself as he rearranged the weapons lining the walls in one of the _Prosperity’s_ storage holds. He really did need more space… Maybe he could ask Shockwave to share quarters with him.

“Swindle?”

The con mech yelped in surprise and fumbled the concussion cannon he was trying to hang from the wall. Shockwave caught it and hung it for him. Swindle turned, expecting the larger mech to be right in front of him, but discovered that he’d simply extended his arms from the doorway instead. Swindle laughed.

“That sure is a useful trick,” he said. “What did you need?”

“To speak with you,” said Shockwave. He retracted his arms to their normal length and strode into the storage hangar to be nearer to Swindle. “Can you take a moment for that?”

“Of course!” Swindle grinned and held his hands out in a welcoming gesture. “This is only a little reorganizing to keep myself busy. It can wait.”

“Very well then,” said Shockwave. He shifted his weight. “I must return to Cybertron.”

Swindle blinked. “Didn’t you pay me fifty million Shanix to transport you _off_ of Cybertron?”

Shockwave nodded. “I did. That was at a time when leaving the planet was most beneficial to my mission. However, now I must return there to carry out the final stages.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard anything about this mission of yours,” said Swindle. He narrowed his optics and pursed his lips, setting his hands on his hips. “Care to clue me in?”

“It’s not a profit venture, if that’s what you’re wondering,” said Shockwave. “The entire purpose behind my travelling with you was to raise a small force with which to break Megatron out of prison. I’ve now completed that mission and gained the information I need to make the final plans for the venture.”

Swindle blinked. A look of realization crossed his face. “So that’s the reason for the prison break on Opulus while we were there? And the reason you kept slinking around and talking to people on all those other planets?”

“Yes,” said Shockwave. “I’m surprised you didn’t suspect my motives earlier.”

“Well,” said Swindle, and he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “I was a little busy landing several amazing deals for myself at the time.”

“True enough.” Shockwave nodded once. “But the point stands that I must return to Cybertron. The forces that I have gathered should be waiting for me there.”

“Well… I guess Cybertron is as good a place as any to go next,” Swindle sighed. “But what’s that going to mean for…” He gestured between the two of them.

“For our relationship?” asked Shockwave.

Swindle nodded. “Yeah.”

“It should be unaffected, for the most part.” Shockwave turned slightly. Swindle took it as a cue to move towards the door, and Shockwave followed.

“How is it going to be unaffected if you have to go with Megatron, though?” asked Swindle as he led Shockwave up to the bridge of the _Prosperity._ “Because _I’m_ certainly not going to be doing that. No offense to my favorite customer, of course, but that isn’t really my style.”

Shockwave laughed quietly. “There isn’t much to change this far. And regardless of that, I will of course be contacting you as frequently as I am able.”

“Aww,” Swindle cooed. He grinned at Shockwave over his shoulder, then slid into his seat. “You think you’ll miss me?”

“I won’t admit to anything of the sort,” said Shockwave. He settled himself into his own seat in a sprawl of too-long limbs.

Swindle grinned. “But that means you will~!”

Shockwave glanced at Swindle out of the corner of his optic. “Are you going to fly me to Cybertron or not?”

Laughing, Swindle started putting in the new course.

**‡**

Swindle flew the _Prosperity_ through the Elite Guard security blockade around Cybertron with a practiced ease. The bots on watch didn’t even seem to notice the small merchant ship’s passage. If they did, they didn’t react to it in any way that either Swindle or Shockwave could see.

“Isn’t it a bit risky to meet up with your crew of Decepticons in Iacon?” Swindle mused.

“It would be more risky to assemble them elsewhere and then have to worry about transporting a group of Decepticons across Cybertron unnoticed,” said Shockwave. “It’s safer to do it this way. A solitary Decepticon is far harder to track than a large group. And as all of them will have moved into the area in ones and twos, most of them should have made it there.”

 _“Most_ of them?” asked Swindle.

Shockwave sighed. “I won’t pretend that all of the Decepticons I spoke with are particularly stealthy. There is a good chance that several of them will have been captured by the Elite Guard. That is part of the reason I gathered so many of them.”

“It does make sense,” said Swindle. He set the _Prosperity_ down on a landing pad and turned to Shockwave. “So,” he said, and a sly grin slid onto his face. “Who’s arming these bots?”

Shockwave stood from his seat. “Most are already well-armed,” he said. “But if you were to offer armaments to those not in possession of them, I am certain it would be welcome.”

“Give me just a moment to grab some things and I’ll be right with you!” Swindle declared. He slung himself out of his seat and jogged to the nearest storage hangar.

Shockwave assumed his Stiletto form, smiled faintly, and strode to the exit hatch to wait for him. The con mech rushed around for a few moments before he joined Stiletto. The spy lowered the ship’s hatch and they walked down it together.

**‡**

Shockwave led Swindle through the underground tunnels beneath the city of Iacon with a sureness that spoke volumes of the time he must have spent down here over the cycles. Swindle followed closely behind him so he wouldn’t get lost. “Tell me again why we’re in the old tunnels?” he prompted.

“No bot uses them anymore,” Shockwave explained. “Hardly a one even knows they still exist—and there are several exits from the tunnels near Trypticon Prison. It’s the perfect place from which to stage this operation.”

“Yes, right,” Swindle sighed. “And it has such a _fantastic_ atmosphere, too…”

After another half a megacycle of walking through the old tunnels, Shockwave and Swindle eventually reached a large double-door with a keypad to the side. Swindle would have walked right past if Shockwave hadn’t stopped there and said, “This is the place. It’s an old laboratory I’ve used on a number of occasions.”

The pair stood in silence for a moment. The sound of other bots’ chatter echoed faintly through the door. It seemed a good number of them had made it there after all.

“Hey, Shockwave, lean down,” Swindle said suddenly, gesturing with one hand. Shockwave blinked and obliged him. With a grin, Swindle grabbed Shockwave’s shoulders and hauled him down a little further to plant a kiss on the empty space beneath his optic.

Shockwave’s whole faceplate heated. “I don’t have a mouth, Swindle,” he said awkwardly.

“Aw, shut up. It’s for luck,” Swindle laughed. He let Shockwave go and grinned at him. “So?”

Shockwave hastily composed himself. “After you,” he said. He keyed open the door.

Swindle stepped through. Shockwave followed close behind.

“All right, we don’t have all solar cycle,” announced the shifter. The conversations that had been going on amongst the mechs inside the laboratory died down, and they all turned their optics to Shockwave. He docked his datapad into a nearby mapping console and a complete, three-dimensional holographic map of Trypticon Prison appeared.

“So let’s get down to business, shall we?” said Shockwave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s all, folks! But don't worry—the story continues in _Loyalty for Sale,_ which has an arguably better plot and a lot more important characters.


End file.
